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THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 


They  were  white  men  and  the  captain  of  Fort  Dickey  recognized  one 

of  them  as  Vaudrin,  the  French  trapper.     His 

hands  went  slowly  up. 


THE  WILDERNESS 
TRAIL 


By 

FRANK    WILLIAMS^a^i^,^ 

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Illustrations  by 
DOUGLAS    DUER 


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•  •  • .  • 


NEW     YORK 

W.    J.    WATT    &    COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT  1913  BY 

W.  J.  WATT  &  COMPANY 


Published  June 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

I     Up  FOR  Judgment :  i 

II     III  Report ;  9 

III  A  Mysterious  Message 19 

IV  Into  the  Danger  Zone 29 

V     Death  Trail 39 

VI     The  Last  Stand ,  54 

VII     Jean  Puts  it  up  to  Her  Father 70 

VIII     The  Alarm ;  78 

IX     The  Broken  Pipe 88 

X     The  Escape. 99 

XI     A  Hot  Scent 109 

XII     Maria  Takes  Action 119 

XIII  A  Rescue  and  A  Surprise 129 

XIV  A  Frigid  Idyl 140 

XV     Prey  OF  THE  Pack 152 

XVI     Fearful  Disclosures 166 

XVII     The  Companion  of  Many  Trails 176 

XVIII      In  New  Clutches 187 

XIX     A  Forced  March 202 

XX     Awaiting  the  Hangman 213 

XXI     A  Note  and  its  Answer 223 

XXII  Secreted  Evidence 234 

XXIII  The  Brothers 246 

XXIV  Nine  Points  of  the  Law 258 

XXV     Against  Fearful  Odds 266 

XXVI     Renunciation 277 


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THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 


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THE 
WILDERNESS  TRAIL 


CHAPTER  I 

UP   FOR  JUDGMENT 

*'  A  ^^  y^"  accuse  me  of  that?  " 

-^^  Donald  McTavish  glared  down  into  the 
heavy,  ugly  face  of  his  superior  —  a  face  that  con- 
cealed behind  its  mask  of  dignity  emotions  as  potent 
and  lasting  as  the  northland  that  bred  them. 

"  I  accuse  you  of  nothing."  Fitzpatrick  pawed 
his  white  beard.  "  I  only  know  that  a  great  quan- 
tity of  valuable  furs,  trapped  in  your  district,  have 
not  been  turned  in  to  me  here  at  the  factory.  It  is 
to  explain  this  discrepancy  that  I  have  called  you 
down  by  dogs  in  the  dead  of  winter.  Where  are 
those  furs? ''  He  looked  up  out  of  the  great  chair 
in  which  he  was  sitting,  and  regarded  his  inferior 
with  cold  insolence.  For  half  an  hour  now,  the 
interview  had  been  in  progress,  half  an  hour  of 
shame  and  dismay  for  McTavish,  and  the  same 
amount  of  satisfaction  for  the  factor. 

**  I  tell  you  I  have  no  idea  where  they  are,"  re- 
turned the  post  captain.     "  So  far  as  I  know,  the 


%  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

usual;  ftiimber;  of  pdts  have  been  traded  for  at 
the  fort.  If  9ny  have  disappeared,  it  is  a  matter  of 
the  white  trappers  and- the  Indians,  not  my  affair." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  the  other  suavely;  "  but  who  is  in 
charge  of  Fort  Dickey?" 
1  am. 

"  Then,  how  can  you  say  it  is  not  your  affair  when 
the  Company  is  losing  twenty  thousand  pounds  a 
year  from  your  district?  " 

The  young  man  ground  his  teeth  helplessly,  torn 
between  the  desire  to  throttle  ugly  old  Fitzpatrick 
where  he  sat,  or  to  turn  on  his  heel,  and  walk  out 
without  another  word.  He  did  neither.  Either 
would  have  been  disastrous,  as  he  well  knew.  He 
had  not  come  up  three  years  with  the  spring  brigade 
from  the  Dickey  and  Lake  Bolsover  without  know- 
ing the  autocratic,  almost  royal,  rule  of  old  Angus 
Fitzpatrick,  factor  at  Fort  Severn  for  these  two 
decades. 

So,  now,  he  choked  back  his  wrath,  and  walked 
quietly  up  and  down,  pondering  what  to  do.  The 
room  was  square,  low,  and  heavily  raftered. 
Donald  had  to  duck  his  head  for  one  particular 
beam  at  each  passage  back  and  forth.  Beneath  his 
feet  were  great  bearskins  in  profusion;  a  moose's 
head  decorated  one  end  of  the  place.  The  furniture 
was  heavy  and  home-made. 

At  last,  he  turned  upon  the  factor. 

"  Look  here !  "  he  said  simply.  *'  What  have  you 
got  against  me?  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that 
there  isn't  another  man  in  your  whole  district  you 


UP  FOR  JUDGMENT  3 

would  call  in  from  a  winter  post  to  accuse  in  this 
way.  What  have  I  done?  How  have  I  failed  in 
my  duty?  Have  I  taken  advantage  of  my  position 
as  the  chief  commissioner's  son?  " 

Fitzpatrick  pawed  his  beard  again,  and  shot  a 
sharp,  inquisitive  glance  at  the  young  captain.  That 
mention  of  his  father's  position  was  slightly  unto- 
ward.    In  turn,  he  pondered  a  minute. 

"  Up  to  this  time,"  he  said  at  last,  "  you  have 
done  your  work  well.  You  know  the  business  pretty 
thoroughly,  and  your  Indians  seem  to  be  contented. 
I  have  nothing  against  you  —  " 

"  No,"  burst  out  McTavish,  "  you  have  nothing 
against  me.  That's  just  it.  Virtues  with  you  are 
always  negative;  never  have  I  heard  you  grant  a 
positive  quality  in  all  the  time  I  have  known  you. 
And,  to  be  frank,  I  think  that  you  have  something 
against  me.  But  what  it  is  I  cannot  find  out.  "  He 
paused  eloquently  before  the  white-haired  figure  that 
seemed  as  immovable  as  a  block  of  granite. 

"  This  is  hardly  the  time  for  personalities,  Mc- 
Tavish," said  the  other,  harshly.  "  What  I  want  to 
know  is,  what  steps  will  you  take  to  restore  the  furs 
that  have  disappeared  from  your  district?  " 

"  How  do  you  know  they  have  disappeared  from 
my  district?  "  Donald  blazed  forth. 

"  I  know  everything  in  this  country,"  replied  Fitz- 
patrick, dryly. 

"  Then,  am  I  under  the  surveillance  of  your  spy- 
ing Indians?  " 

"  Enough  I  "   roared  the   factor,   at  last   roused 


4  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

from  his  calm.     "  I  am  not  here  to  be  questioned. 
Answer  me!     What  are  you  going  to  do?  " 

McTavish  dropped  his  clenched  hands  with  a  ges- 
ture of  hopeless  weariness. 

"  I'll  swallow  your  insulting  innuendoes,  and  try 
to  dig  up  some  evidence  to  support  your  accusation/' 
he  said,  quietly.  "If  I  get  track  of  any  leakage, 
I'll  do  my  best  to  stop  it.  If  not,  you  shall  learn  as 
soon  as  possible." 

"  The  leakage  exists,"  rejoined  the  factor,  dog- 
gedly. "  Plug  the  hole,  or  —  "  He  paused  sug- 
gestively. 

"  Or  what? "  cried  the  younger  man,  whirling 
upon  him  furiously. 

"Plug  the  hole  —  that's  all." 

Shaking  with  the  fury  that  possessed  him,  Mc- 
Tavish turned  away  from  his  chief,  and  walked  to  a 
window,  lest  he  should  lose  all  control  of  himself. 
But  a  thought  came  to  him  that  restored  the  proud 
angle  of  his  head,  and  crushed  his  anger  into  noth- 
ingness. 

What  McTavish  yet  had  been  the  fool  of  a 
narrow-minded,  disgruntled  superior,  and  showed 
it  by  losing  his  temper?  None.  The  name  of  Mc- 
Tavish rang  down  the  hall  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Com- 
pany's history  like  a  bugle.  Three  generations  of 
them  had  served  this  fearful  master  —  he  was  the 
third.  His  father,  now  chief  commissioner,  had 
served  an  apprenticeship  of  twenty  years  in  the  wilds, 
beginning  as  a  mere  lad.  He  himself,  when  barely 
fifteen,  had  felt  the  call  in  his  blood,  and  gone  out 


UP  FOR  JUDGMENT  5 

on  the  trail  with  Peter  Rainy,  a  devoted  Indian  of 
his  father's.  Peter  was  still  with  him,  but  now  as 
body-servant,  and  not  as  Instructor  In  woodcraft. 

Donald  thought  of  these  things  as  he  looked  out  of 
the  chunky,  square  window  into  the  snow-muffled 
courtyard.  So  engrossed  was  he  that  he  failed  to 
hear  the  door  of  the  room  open,  and  the  light  foot- 
falls of  Tee-ka-mee,  FItzpatrlck's  bowman  and  body- 
servant.  The  Indian,  sensing  some  unpleasantness 
in  the  air,  went  direcdy  to  the  factor,  and  handed 
him  a  message,  explaining  that  Pierre  Cardeple,  one 
of  McTavIsh's  companions  at  the  Dickey  River  post, 
had  sent  it  by  Indian  runner. 

Through  the  window  the  post-captain  saw  oppo- 
site him  a  corner  made  by  two  walls  meeting  at  right 
angles.  Even  in  summer,  they  were  stout,  heavy 
walls;  but,  now,  with  twenty  feet  of  snow  muffling 
and  locking  them  in  an  unshakable  grip,  they  were 
monstrous.  Above  the  walls,  a  bastion  of  squared 
logs,  looped-holed  for  four-  and  sIx-pounders,  rose. 
There  was  another  one  at  the  opposite  corner  of  the 
square,  and  together  they  commanded  all  ap- 
proaches. 

Angus  FItzpatrIck  opened  the  message  Tee-ka-mee 
handed  to  him,  and  read  it.  His  only  sign  of  emo- 
tion was  the  lifting  of  an  eyebrow.  Then,  he  waved 
the  Indian  out. 

"  McTavIsh ! ''  he  called  sharply,  and  the  younger 
man  turned  wearily  from  the  window  to  face  his 
superior. 

"  I  suppose  you  know  that  half-breed,   Charley 


6  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

Seguis,  in  your  district?  He  comes  up  with  the  bri- 
gade every  spring,  I  believe.  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  him.  He  is  a  skilful  trapper  and 
a  half-breed  of  remarkable  intelligence." 

"  Huh!  That's  the  trouble;  he's  got  too  much  in- 
telligence to  make  him  safe  as  a  half-breed.  What 
do  you  know  about  him?     Is  he  a  bad  one?  " 

"  Quite  the  contrary,  so  far  as  I  have  observed.  *' 

"  Well,  he's  been  bad  this  time.  Read  that.  " 
Fitzpatrick  handed  Cardepie's  scrawl  to  McTavish, 
and  watched  keenly  as  the  latter  read: 

Sir: 

Yesterday  Charley  Seguis  murder  Cree  Johnny.  No 
reason  I  can  find.  I  send  this  by  runner  so  Mr.  McTavish 
get  it  before  he  starts  back. 

Cardepie. 

"  That's  most  remarkable,  sir, "  said  Donald, 
genuinely  puzzled.  "  I  never  would  have  suspected 
Charley  of  that.  He  has  brains  enough  to  know  th 
consequences  of  murder.     I  can't  understand  it 

"  Neither  can  Cardepie,  evidently.  He  says  he 
knows  no  reason  for  the  deed. "  Fitzpatrick 
heaved  himself  up,  and  leaned  forward  interestedly. 
"  You  know,"  he  went  on,  "  that  this  thing  cannot  go 
unpunished.  Charley  Seguis  must  be  captured,  and 
brought  to  the  fort  here." 

"Will  the  mounted  police  get  here  before — ?" 
began  McTavish. 

"  The  mounted  police  be  hanged  I  There  are 
only  seven  hundred  of  them,  and  they  have  to  cover 


UP  FOR  JUDGMENT  7 

a  country  as  big  as  Siberia.  You  don't  suppose  Vm 
going  to  wait  for  them,  do  you?  Nominally,  they're 
the  law  here,  but  literally  I  and  the  men  under  me 
are.  Retribution  in  this  case  must  be  swift  and  sure, 
as  it  always  has  been  from  Fort  Severn."  Fitzpat- 
rick  paused  to  breathe. 

"  Then,  you  mean  that  I  niust  go  out  and  gQt 
him,"  Donald  interpreted,  calmly. 

"  You  spare  me  the  trouble  of  saying  it,"  replied 
the  other.     "When  can  you  start?" 

"  In  three  hours." 

Fitzpatrick  glanced  at  the  clock  on  the  wall. 

"  Too  late  now,"  he  said.  "  Better  wait  until 
to-morrow.  The  feed  and  the  night's  rest  will  do 
you  good.  Whatever  happens,  you've  got  to  be 
faster  than  that  half-breed."  He  paused  a  minute. 
"  If  you  go  at  dawn,  I  probably  won't  see  you  again. 
In  that  case,  let  me  remind  you,  McTavish,  of  the 
matter  of  which  we  were  speaking  before  this  mur- 
der came  up.     I  — " 

"  You  don't  need  to  remind  me.  I  remember 
it  perfectly."     Donald  moved  toward  the  door. 

Fitzpatrick  leaned  still  farther  forward  in  his 
great  chair,  his  eyes  glinting,  his  lips  curved  in  a 
snarl. 

"  And  Hon't  forget,"  he  rasped  at  the  other's  back, 
"  that  I  want  that  half-breed,  dead  or  alive  —  and 
that  he's  a  mighty  fast  man  with  a  gun !  " 

The  young  man  vouchsafed  no  reply,  but  passed 
out  of  the  door  that  Tee-ka-mee  opened  from  the 
other  side. 


8  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

For  fully  a  minute  after  the  door  had  closed, 
Fitzpatrick  continued  to  lean  forward,  the  snarl  on 
his  lips,  the  evil  light  In  his  eyes.  Then  he  fell  back 
heavily,  with  a  harsh,  mirthless  cackle. 

"  If  he  only  knew —  if  he  only  knew  I  "  he  mut- 
tered to  himself.  "  He  must  know  soon,  or  there 
won't  be  half  the  pleasure  in  it  for  me." 

Then,  thirst  being  upon  him,  he  clanged  the  bell 
for  Tee-ka-mee,  and  that  faithful  servitor,  divining 
the  order,  brought  the  aged  factor  wherewithal  to 
warm  himself. 


CHAPTER  II 

ILL  REPORT 

T^ONALD  found  Peter  Rainy  gossiping  with  tt 
■■^  couple  of  the  Indian  servants  in  the  barracks, 
and  informed  his  attendant  of  the  intended  departure 
next  morning.  Then,  he  returned  to  the  factor's 
house,  unexpected  and  unaccompanied,  and  was  ad- 
mitted silently  by  an  Indian  woman,  into  whose  hand 
he  slipped  a  tiny  mirror  by  way  of  recompense. 

"Will  you  tell  Miss  Jean  that  I'm  here?"  he 
said,  In  the  soft  native  Ojibway  of  the  woman. 

She  nodded  assent,  and  disappeared,  only  the  sharp 
creaking  of  the  stairs  under  her  tread  betraying  her 
movements.  For  some  time,  then,  Donald  sat  alone 
in  the  low-ceiled  parlor.  At  one  end  of  the  room 
a  roaring  fire  burned  in  the  rough  stone  fireplace; 
there  were  a  couple  of  tables  along  either  wall,  with 
mid- Victorian  novels  scattered  over  them;  Oriental 
rugs  and  great  furs  smothered  the  floor,  and  there 
was  even  a  new  mahogany  davenport  in  one  corner, 
which  the  yearly  ship  from  England  had  brought  the 
summer  before.  While  the  room  of  the  other  In- 
terview was  palpably  that  of  the  factor,  there  was 
something  about  this  one,  a  certain  pervasive  touch 
of  femininity,  that  marked  it  as  that  of  the  daugh- 
ters of  the  house. 

9 


10  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

After  a  few  minutes,  there  sounded  a  second  creak- 
ing of  the  stairs  accompanied  by  a  soft  rustling  that 
was  not  of  Indian  garments.  Donald  rose  to  his 
feet  expectantly,  his  finely  molded  head  inclined  in 
an  attitude  of  listening,  and  a  flickering  light  in  his 
dark-blue  eyes.  There  was  a  moment's  pause,  and 
then  a  girl  entered  the  narrow  doorway. 

She  was  tall,  slender,  and  dressed  in  gray  wool, 
warmed  by  touches  of  red  velvet  at  waist  and  throat 
and  cuffs.  Her  skin  was  clear  and  soft,  toned  to  the 
rich  hues  of  perfect  health  by  the  whipping  winds 
of  the  North.  Her  eyes,  too,  were  blue,  but  of  a 
lighter  color  than  were  the  man's,  while  her  hair, 
against  the  firelight,  was  a  flaming  aureole  of  bronze. 

Donald  caught  a  quick  breath  of  admiration,  as 
he  took  the  hand  she  held  out  to  him.  Each  time.  It 
came  involuntarily — this  breath  of  admiration.  Last 
spring,  when  the  brigade  had  come  to  the  fort  after 
the  winter's  trapping;  last  fall,  when  he  had  gone 
away  from  the  fort,  after  a  few  weeks'  hazardous 
attentions  under  the  malicious  eyes  of  oldFItzpatrick; 
and  here,  again,  this  winter.  .  .  .  And,  as  he  saw  her 
now,  after  their  long  separation,  there  arose  In  him 
a  need  as  Imperative  as  hunger,  and  as  fierce.  Years 
in  the  solitudes  had  Instilled  into  Donald  something 
of  the  habits  and  Instincts  of  the  animals  he  trapped, 
and  now,  as  he  approached  thirty,  this  longing  that 
was  of  both  soul  and  body,  laid  hold  of  him  with  an 
unreasoning,  compelling  grip  which  could  not  be 
ignored. 

"  They  told  me  you  were  here,''  said  Jean  FItz- 


ILL  REPORT  II 

patrick",  "  and  I  think  it  nice  of  you  to  give  one  of 
your  precious  hours  for  a  call  on  me." 

"  You  know  I  would  give  them  all  If  I  could,"  re- 
turned McTavIsh,  simply.  "  I  would  sledge  the 
width  of  Keewatin  for  half  a  day  with  you." 

"Donald,  you  mustn't  say  those  things;  I  don't 
understand  them  quite,  and,  besides,  father  made 
himself  clear  about  your  privileges  last  summer, 
didn't  he?" 

McTavIsh  looked  at  the  girl,  and  told  himself 
that  he  must  remember  her  limitations  before  he  lost 
his  patience.  For  he  knew  that,  despite  her  pure 
Scotch  descent,  she  had  never  been  more  than  two 
days'  journey  from  Fort  Severn  in  all  her  life.  The 
only  men  she  had  ever  known  were  Indians,  half- 
breeds,  French-Canadians,  and  a  few  pure-white  fort 
captains  like  hlinself.  And  of  these  last,  perhaps 
three  in  all  her  experience  had  been  worthy  an  hour's 
chat.  And,  as  to  these  three,  orders  emanating  from 
the  secret  councils  in  Winnipeg  had  moved  them  out 
of  her  sphere  before  she  had  more  than  merely  met 
them. 

Innocent,  but  not  Ignorant  (for  her  eyes  could  see 
the  life  about  her),  she  was  the  product  of  an  un- 
natural environment,  the  foster-child  of  hardship, 
grim  determination,  and  abrupt  destiny.  Donald  re- 
membered these  things,  as,  with  less  patience,  he  re- 
called the  fact  that  old  Fitzpatrick  was  opposed  to 
Jean's  marrying  until  Laura,  the  elder  sister,  had 
been  taken  off  his  hands.  This  had  been  intimated 
from  various  sources  during  the  turbulent  weeks  o£ 


12  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

the  summer,  and  Jean  was  now  referring  to  it  again. 

Had  old  Fitzpatrick  possessed  the  eyes  of  Jean's 
few  admirers,  he  would  have  laid  the  blame  for  his 
predicament  on  his  angular  first-born,  where  it  be- 
longed, and  not  on  the  perversity  of  young  men  m 
general. 

"  Look  here,  Jean,"  said  Donald,  after  grave  con- 
sideration. "  You  are  old  enough  to  think  for  your- 
self—  twenty-four,  aren't  you?"  The  girl  nodded 
assent. 

"  Well,  then,"  he  continued,  "  please  don't  remind 
me  of  what  your  father  said  last  summer,  if  it  is  in 
opposition  to  our  wishes  and  desires." 

"  I  wouldn't  if  it  was  in  opposition  to  them,"  she 
retorted,  calmly.  He  looked  at  her  with  startled 
eyes,  a  sudden,  breathless  pain  stabbing  him. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  mean,  Donald,"  she  replied,  looking  at  him 
squarely  with  her  fearless,  truthful  eyes,  "  that  last 
summer  was  a  mistake,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned." 

*' Jean!"  McTavish  rose  to  his  feet  unsteadily, 
his  face  white  with  pain.  "  Jean !  What  has  hap- 
pened? What  have  I  done?  What  lies  has  anyone 
been  telling  you?  "  He  spoke  in  a  sharp  voice;  yet, 
even  in  the  midst  of  his  bewilderment,  he  could  not 
but  admire  her  straightforward  cutting  to  the  heart 
of  the  matter.  There  was  no  coquetry  or  false  gen- 
tleness about  her.  That  was  the  pattern  of  his  own 
nature  and  he  loved  her  the  more  for  it. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  in  the  way  he  adored, 
and  smiled  wanly. 


ILL  REPORT  13 

"  There's  an  Indian  proverb  that  says,  *  When  the 
wind  dies,  there  is  no  more  music  in  the  corn,'  "  she 
replied.  "  There  is  no  more  music  in  my  heart,  that 
Is  all;' 

"What  made  it  die?" 

"  I  can't  tell  you." 

"Evil  reports  about  me?"  he  snarled  suddenly, 
drawing  down  his  dark  brows,  and  fixing  her  with 
piercing  eyes  that  had  gone  almost  black. 

"  Not  evil  reports;  merely  half-baked  rumors  that, 
really,  had  very  little  to  do  with  you,  after  all.  Yet, 
they  changed  me."     She  was  still  wholly  frank. 

"Who  carried  them  to  you?"  he  demanded  tensely, 
the  muscles  of  his  firm  jaws  tightening  as  his  teeth 
clenched.  "  Tell  me  who  spread  them,  and  I'll  run 
him  to  earth,  if  he  leads  me  through  the  heart  of 
Labrador." 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  returned  earnestly,  rising  in 
her  turn.  "  That's  the  trouble  with  rumors.  They're 
like  a  summer  wind;  they  go  everywhere  unseen,  but 
everyone  hears  them,  and  none  can  say  out  of  which 
direction  they  first  came  or  when  they  will  cease  blow- 
ing.    I  don't  know." 

Baffled,  shocked,  embittered,  Donald  turned  pas- 
sionately upon  her. 

"  You  don't  know  what  was  in  my  heart  when  I 
came  here  to-day,"  he  cried.  "  You  don't  know  what 
has  been  in  it  ever  since  the  fall  when  the  brigade 
went  south.  I  need  you.  I  want  you.  This  winter, 
everything  has  gone  against  me,  but  the  thought  of 
your  sympathy  and  affection  made  those  troubles  easy 


14  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

to  bear.  I  stand  now  under  the  shadow  of  such  a 
despicable  thievery  as  the  lowest  half-breed  rarely 
commits.  They  say  I  cache  and  dispose  of  furs  for 
my  own  profit  —  I,  In  whom  honor  and  loyalty  to  the 
Company  have  been  bred  for  a  hundred  years.  To- 
morrow I  start  out  on  the  almost  hopeless  task  of 
proving  myself  Innocent.  And  not  only  that!  A 
half-breed  In  my  district,  Charley  Seguls,  has  mur- 
dered an  Indian,  and  I,  as  captain  of  Fort  Dickey, 
must  run  him  to  earth,  and  bring  him  back  here.  If 
I  can  get  the  drop  on  him  first.  If  I  can't — but  never 
mind  that  part  of  it.  My  honor  and  even  my  life 
are  at  stake,  but  those  are  little  things.  If  I  know  you 
love  me.  I  wanted  to  go  away  to-morrow  with  the 
knowledge  of  your  faith  In  me,  and  the  promise  that, 
when  I  came  back,  we  might  be  married.  Oh,  Jean, 
I  need  you,  I  need  you,  and  now  — "  He  broke  off 
abruptly. 

The  girl  had  paled  beneath  her  tan.  She  stood 
looking  at  him,  her  hands  gripped  tightly  together 
in  front  of  her,  her  eyes  wide  with  wonder  and  per- 
plexity. 

"  I  can't  help  it,  Donald,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice. 
"  I'm  sorry,  truly  I  am  sorry.  I  —  I  didn't  know 
these  things.  And,  perhaps,  you'll  be  shot,  you  say? 
No,  that  must  not  be.  You  must  come  back,  even  if 
things  aren't  what  they  were." 

"  You  do  care  for  me !  "  cried  McTavIsh  eagerly, 
stepping  toward  her. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  do;  but  not  the  way  you  mean,"  she 
stammered,  a  sudden  instinctive  fear  of  his  mascu- 


ILL  REPORT  15 

line  domination  rising  in  her.  "  I  can't  marry  you 
now,  or  when  you  come  back,  or  —  ever!  " 

The  fire  in  the  man's  eyes  died  out;  his  frame  re- 
laxed hopelessly,  and  he  fumbled  for  his  fur  cap. 

"  I'm  sorry  I  spoke,  Jean,"  he  said,  stretching  out 
his  hand.     "  Good-by." 

Suddenly,  the  door  leading  into  the  rear  room 
opened,  and  in  the  frame  stood  the  heavy  figure  of 
Angus  Fitzpatrick,  his  eyes  glittering  under  the 
beetling  white  brows.  For  a  silent  moment,  he  took 
in  the  scene  before  him. 

"Jean,"  he  said  harshly,  "what  does  this  mean? 
iYou  know  my  orders.    Do  you  disobey  me?  " 

The  girl  flushed  painfully. 

"  Mr.  McTavish  is  going  now,  father,"  she  said, 
quietly.     "  I'm  sending  him  away." 

"  I'll  look  to  that  Indian  woman,"  muttered  Fitz- 
patrick. "  She  had  orders  not  to  admit  him."  Then, 
aloud : 

"  Mr.  McTavish,  in  the  future,  kindly  do  not  con- 
fuse your  business  at  this  factory  with  your  personal 
desires.    I  do  not  wish  it." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  the  captain  impersonally, 
without  looking  at  the  factor. 

His  eyes  were  fixed  hungrily  upon  the  face  of  the 
girl,  searching  for  a  sign  of  tender  emotion.  But 
there  was  none.  Only  confusion,  fear,  and  surprise 
struggled  for  mastery  there.  Hopelessly,  he  bowed 
stiffly  to  her,  and  went  out  of  the  door. 

Crossing  the  courtyard  by  a  path  that  was  a  veri- 
table canon  of  snow,  he  gained  his  quarters  in  the 


1 6  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIE 

barracks.  There,  he  found  Peter  Rainy,  gaunt  and 
with  a  wrinkled,  leathern  face,  starting  to  gather  the 
packs  for  the  early  start  next  morning.  Donald 
filled  and  lit  his  pipe  solemnly,  and  then  sat  down  to 
ponder. 

Something  intangible  and  ill-favored  had  been 
streaked  across  the  clean  page  of  his  life.  Angus 
Fitzpatrick's  increasing  malice  toward  him  was  not 
the  sudden  whim  of  an  irascible  old  man.  He  knew 
that,  all  other  things  being  equal,  the  factor  was 
really  just,  in  a  rough  and  ungracious  way.  Any 
other  man  in  the  service  would  have  hesitated  long 
before  accusing  him,  with  his  father's  and  grand- 
father's records,  glorious  as  they  were,  and  his  own 
unimpeachable,  as  far  as  he  knew.  Some  event  or 
circumstances  over  which  he  had  no  control  had 
raised  itself,  and  defamed  him  to  these  persons  who 
held  his  honor  and  his  happiness  in  their  hands.  This 
much  he  sensed;  else  why  had  the  factor  taken  such 
half-hidden,  but  malicious,  joy  in  sending  him  forth 
on  these  two  Herculean  tasks;  else,  why  had  the 
rumor  poisoned  the  mind  of  Jean  against  him,  and 
held  her  aloof  and  unapproachable? 

That  Jean  should  not  love  him  under  the  circum- 
stances did  not  surprise  him,  but  he  groped  in  vain 
for  an  explanation  of  old  Fitzpatrick's  evident 
hatred.  The  old  factor  and  the  elder  McTavish, 
now  commissioner,  had  known  each  other  for  years, 
the  latter's  incumbency  of  the  York  factory  having 
kept  them  in  fairly  close  touch.  This  in  itself, 
thought  Donald,  should  be  a  matter  in  his  favor, 


ILL  REPORT  17 

and  not  an  obstacle,  as  it  appeared  to  be.  Ponder- 
ing, searching,  he  racked  his  weary  brain  feverishly 
until  Peter  Rainy  unobtrusively  announced  that  din- 
ner was  ready.  Then,  occupied  with  other  things,  he 
put  the  matter  from  his  mind. 

The  sluggish  dawn  had  barely  cast  its  first  glow 
across  the  measureless  snows  when  Rainy  roused  him 
from  heavy  sleep.  After  a  breakfast  of  boiled  fat, 
meat,  tea  and  hard  bread,  they  gathered  the  four 
dogs  together,  and  with  much  difficulty  got  them 
into  traces.  Mistisi,  the  leader,  a  bad  dog  when  not 
working,  strained  impatiently  in  the  moose-hide  har- 
ness. Donald,  when  the  packs  had  been  strapped 
securely  on,  gave  a  quick  final  inspection,  and  then  a 
word  that  sent  the  train  moving  toward  the  gate  in 
the  wall. 

But  few  men  were  about,  and  an  indifferent  wave 
of  the  hand  from  these  sped  the  party  on  its  way. 
Outside  the  gate,  Peter  Rainy  took  the  lead,  break- 
ing a  path  for  the  dogs  with  his  snowshoes,  while 
McTavish  walked  beside  the  loaded  sled.  Their 
course  ran  westward  up  the  frozen  Dickey  River, 
which  now  lay  adamant  beneath  the  iron  cold  and 
drifting  snow.  Forty  miles  they  would  follow  it,  to 
the  fork  that  led  on  the  north  to  Beaver  Lake,  and 
on  the  south  to  Bolsover.  Taking  the  south  branch, 
they  would  then  struggle  across  the  wind-swept  body 
of  water,  and  follow  the  river  ten  miles  farther,  to 
a  headland  upon  which  stood  the  snow-mufHed  block- 
house of  Fort  Dickey. 

If  you  draw  a  straight  line  north  from  Ashland, 


(i8;  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIIJ 

Wisconsin,  and  follow  It  for  six  hundred  and  fifty 
miles,  you  will  find  yourself  in  the  vicinity  of  Fort 
Dickey,  In  the  midst  of  the  most  appalling  wilder- 
ness on  the  face  of  the  globe.  In  that  journey,  you 
will  have  crossed  Lake  Superior  and  the  great  tangle 
of  spruce  that  extends  for  two  hundred  miles  north 
of  It.  North  of  Lake  St.  Joseph,  which  Is  the  head 
of  the  great  Albany  River,  whence  the  waters  drain 
to  Hudson  Bay,  you  will  strike  north  across  the 
Keewatin  barrens.  Bald,  fruitless  rocks,  piled  as  by 
an  Indifferent  hand;  great  stretches  of  almost  im- 
penetrable forest,  ravines,  lakes,  rivers,  and  rapids; 
all  these  will  hinder  and  baffle  your  progress.  Add 
to  such  conditions  snow,  ice,  and  eighty  degrees  of 
frost,  and  you  have  the  situation  that  Donald  Mc- 
Tavlsh  faced  the  day  he  left  Fort  Severn. 


CHAPTER  III 

A  MYSTERIOUS  MESSAGE 

^^VIZHAT  do  you  know  about  this  murder?  " 

^^  Donald  sat  at  the  dinner  table  In  Fort 

Dickey  with  John  Duller  and  Pierre  Cardepie,  his 
two  assistants.  A  roaring  log  fire  barely  fought  off 
the  cold  as  they  ate  their  caribou  steak,  beans,  bread, 
and  tea. 

"  Not  much,"  replied  Buller.  "  The  day  after 
you  left,  one  of  the  Indians  tore  in  at  midnight  with 
the  news.  He  said  that  he  and  his  partner,  the  mur- 
dered man,  had  been  met  by  Charley  Seguis  while 
running  their  trap-line,  and  that  Charley  had  drawn 
the  other  aside  in  private  conversation.  Half  an 
hour  later,  there  had  been  sudden  words,  followed 
by  blows,  and,  before  Johnny  could  defend  himself, 
Seguis  had  stabbed  him.  What  they  had  been  talk- 
ing about  the  Indian  didn't  know,  for  Charley  had 
hurried  off  immediately  after  the  murder." 

"  What  direction  did  he  take?  "  asked  McTavish. 

"  The  rumor  declared  that  he  went  north,  toward 
Beaver  Lake." 

"  Could  he  give  any  motive  for  the  deed?  " 

"  No.  So  far  as  he  knew,  Johnny  had  never  seen 
Charley  Seguis  before." 

"Well,  boys,  I'm  off  in  the  morning  after  him. 


20  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

The  factor  is  particularly  keen  for  having  him 
brought  in  right  away.  He  also  wants  to  know  what 
I  have  done  with  all  the  furs  that  he  claims  have 
disappeared  from  this  district  during  the  last  year." 
Donald's  tone  was  contemptuous. 

"  I  didn't  know  any  had  disappeared,"  said  Bul- 
ler,  in  amazement. 

"  Nor  me !  "  I  tink  dat  Feetzpatreeck  ees  gone 
crazy  In  hees  old  age,"  added  Cardeple,  with  a  snort. 

"  Well,  whatever  It  is,  he  claims  the  Company  has 
lost  twenty  thousand  pounds,  and  that  I'm  to  blame 
for  It,"  said  Donald. 

"  There's  something  wrong  here,  Mac,"  remarked 
Buller,  decisively.  *'  This  isn't  all  accident,  and.  If 
you  say  so,  I'll  go  with  you  to-morrow." 

"  It's  awfully  good  of  you,  John,  but  I  think  I'll 
tackle  It  alone."  And  McTavish  wearily  rose  from 
the  table. 

The  next  morning,  he  again  took  the  trail,  but 
this  time  alone.  On  his  feet  were  the  light  moose- 
webbed  snowshoes;  from  head  to  heel,  he  was  clad 
in  white  caribou  such  as  the  Indian  hunters  affect, 
and  on  his  capote  he  bore  the  branching  antlers  that 
were  left  there  as  a  decoy  for  the  wary  animals. 
With  a  long  whip  in  one  hand  and  his  rifle  held 
easily  In  the  other,  he  strode  beside  the  straining 
dog-train.  In  the  east,  the  frost-mist  hung  low  like 
a  fog.  In  the  south,  the  sun,  which  barely  showed 
itself  above  the  horizon  each  day,  was  commencing 
to  engrave  faint  tree  shadows  on  the  snow.  The 
west  was  purplish  gray,  but  the  north  was  unrelent- 


A  MYSTERIOUS  MESSAGE  21 

ing  iron.  There  was  no  beaten  path  to  guide  him 
now,  and  sometimes  the  trees  were  so  closely 
set  as  barely  to  permit  the  passage  of  the  sledge.  On 
the  new  snow  could  be  seen  the  dainty  tracks  of 
ermine,  and  beside  them  the  cleanly  indented  marks 
of  a  fox.  There  were  triplicate  clusters  of  impres- 
sions, showing  where  the  hare  had  passed,  and  oc- 
casionally the  huge,  splayed  imprints  of  a  caribou. 
But,  though  the  life  of  the  wild  creatures  was  teem- 
ing at  this  season,  there  was  no  sound  in  all  the 
leagues  of  forest,  except  the  sharp  crack  of  some 
freezing  tree-trunk  and  the  noise  of  Donald's  own 
passage. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  traveler  found  the  cabin 
of  a  white  trapper  for  which  he  had  started  that 
morning. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  Charley  Seguis  is?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Went  north,  toward  Beaver  Lake,  three  days 
ago,"  replied  the  other,  shortly.  "  He  stopped  here 
on  his  way  up,  and  said  he  was  looking  for  better 
grounds." 

"  Going  to  set  out  a  new  line  of  traps  then,  was 
he?" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  McTavish,"  assented  the  trapper. 

"  Thanks,"  said  McTavish,  gathering  up  the  whip. 
"  I  must  be  going." 

"What!  Going  to  travel  all  night?  Better  stay 
and  bunk  with  me." 

"  Can't  do  it,  friend."  And  a  few  minutes  later, 
the  captain  of  Fort  Dickey  was  on  his  way  again. 


22  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

He  knew  that  Charley  Seguls  had  three  days'  start 
of  him.  He  knew  also  that  Charley  was  an  ex- 
ceptionally Intelligent  half-breed,  and  would  travel 
well  out  of  the  district  before  allowing  himself 
breathing  space.  McTavIsh  Intended  surprising  him 
by  the  swiftness  of  pursuit.  So,  lighted  on  his  way 
by  the  brilliant  stars  and  the  silent,  flaunting  banners 
of  the  northern  lights,  he  plodded  doggedly  on  until 
midnight.  Then  he  built  a  fire,  thawed  fish  for  the 
dogs,  and  prepared  food  for  himself,  finally  lying 
down  on  his  bed  of  spruce  boughs,  his  feet  to  the 
flames. 

Two  hours  before  dawn  found  him  shivering  with 
bitter  cold,  and  heaping  logs  upon  the  fire  for  the 
morning  tea ;  and,  while  the  stars  were  fading,  Mis- 
tlsi,  his  leader,  plunged  Into  the  traces  for  the  long 
day's  march.  It  was  grilling  work.  The  cold 
seemed  something  vital,  sentient,  alive,  which  op- 
posed him  with  all  its  might.  The  wind  and  snow 
appeared  cunning  allies  of  the  one  great  enemy;  and, 
to  make  matters  worse,  the  very  underbrush  and 
trees  themselves  apparently  conspired  against  this 
one  microscopic  human  who  dared  Invade  the  re- 
gions of  death. 

But  Donald  McTavIsh  was  not  thinking  of  these 
things  as  he  tolled  north.  His  mind  was  centered 
on  Charley  Seguis,  the  Indian,  the  man  who  must 
be  conquered.  There  lay  his  duty;  hazardous,  fatal, 
perhaps;  but  still  his  duty.  It  was  the  first  law  of 
the  company  that  justice  should  be  infallible  among 
its  servants,  and  right  triumphant. 


'A  MYSTERIOUS  MESSAGE  23 

Donald  crossed  the  tracks  of  two  hunters  that 
morning,  but  saw  no  one.  By  this  time,  he  was  well 
into  the  Beaver  Lake  district.  Seventy-five  miles 
north  were  the  low,  desolate  shores  of  Hudson  Bay, 
and  as  many  miles  directly  east  lay  Fort  Severn.  At 
the  thought,  a  short  spasm  of  pain  clutched  his  heart, 
for  he  could  not  forget  that  the  lonely  post  contained 
the  world  for  him. 

The  splendors  and  luxuries  of  civilization  in  great 
cities  were  as  nothing  to  him  now.  Only  the  vast 
wild,  and  this  one  wonderful  creature  of  the  wild, 
Jean  Fitzpatrick,  spoke  to  him  in  a  language  that 
he  understood.  He  had  vague  recollections  of 
operas  and  theaters  and  dances,  and  all  the  colorful 
life  of  Montreal  and  Winnipeg;  but  they  only 
stirred  within  him  a  sense  of  imprisonment  and  un- 
rest. 

"  Better  to  fight  and  die  alone  In  the  deep  woods 
than  to  live  all  one^s  life  as  a  jellyfish,''  was  the 
concise  fashion  in  which  he  summed  the  matter 
up. 

At  two  o'clock  that  afternoon  McTavish  consulted 
a  map  he  had  made  of  the  district  near  Fort  Dickey, 
and  laid  his  course  for  the  trapping  shanty  of  an 
Indian  called  Whiskey  Bill.  It  was  on  the  bank  of  a 
little  beaver  stream  that  debouched  into  Beaver 
River.  The  stream  was  frozen  to  a  thickness  of 
three  feet,  and  Donald  drove  his  dog  team  smartly 
down  the  snow-covered  Ice,  riding  on  the  sledge  for 
the  first  time  In  many  hours.  But  he  finally  arrived 
at  Whiskey  Bill's  shanty  only  to  find  the  place  de- 


24  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

serted,  and  the  little  building  slowly  disintegrating 
under  the  investigations  of  animals. 

"  That's  funny,"  thought  Donald  uncertainly.  "  I 
can't  understand  it  at  all.  He  said  he  was  coming 
in  to  his  old  shanty  on  this  fork  of  the  Beaver  when 
the  fall  trapping  began." 

He  closely  examined  the  rickety  structure.  It 
showed  signs  of  having  been  inhabited  up  to  a  month 
previous.  The  woodsman  shook  his  head  in  uncer- 
tain amazement,  and  again  consulted  his  map.  Ten 
miles  father  east,  on  the  north  shore  of  Beaver 
Lake,  lived  a  Frenchman  named  Voudrin. 

McTavish  cracked  his  whip  over  the  dogs'  backs, 
and,  leaping  on  the  sledge  as  it  passed,  shot  down 
the  river  to  the  big  lake.  But  there,  after  a  swift 
trip  of  an  hour  and  a  half,  he  found  the  same  condi- 
tions. Voudrin's  cabin,  however,  showed  signs  of 
more  recent  occupancy  than  had  Whiskey  Bill's.  A 
pair  of  snowshoes  bound  high  against  the  wall,  an 
old  pair  of  fur  gloves,  and  a  few  pots  and  pans,  in- 
dicated that  the  Frenchman  would  probably  return. 
But,  in  the  meantime,  McTavish  had  these  questions 
to  answer:   Where  had  the  men  gone?    And  why? 

The  swift  darkness  was  coming  on,  and,  in  the 
absence  of  Information  regarding  Seguis,  Donald  de- 
cided to  spend  the  night  in  Voudrin's  cabin,  in  the 
hope  that  the  man  might  return  by  daylight.  It  was 
possible  the  Frenchman  had  a  three-day  line  of  traps, 
and  was  out  making  the  rounds,  camping  in  the  for- 
est trails,  wherever  darkness  overtook  him. 

Though  chafing  at  the  delay  and  the  tricks  of  cir- 


A  MYSTERIOUS  MESSAGE  25 

cumstance,  Donald  knew  that  he  could  do  no  better 
than  follow  this  plan,  and  so  set  about  unpacking 
for  the  night  and  preparing  food  for  both  himself 
and  his  dogs.  Soon  there  was  a  roaring  fire  in  the 
stone  fireplace  at  the  end  of  the  one-room  shanty, 
and  the  odor  of  frying  meat  pervaded  the  atmos- 
phere. Presently,  he  went  outside  to  cut  fresh  spruce 
boughs  for  the  rough  bunk. 

In  the  woods  he  heard  a  noise.  He  looked  up 
and  found  himself  face  to  face  with  two  silent  In- 
dians, who  stood  looking  at  him  gravely.  Although 
he  was  not  sure,  he  thought  he  recognized  them  as 
a  couple  of  the  early  risers  that  had  waved  him 
good-by  the  day  he  started  from  Fort  Severn.  The 
impression  was  only  a  passing  one,  however. 

"Well,  what  do  you  want?"  demanded  the 
Scotchman,  crisply. 

For  reply,  one  of  the  men  reached  inside  his  hunt- 
ing-coat, and  fumbled  a  moment.  Then  he  drew 
forth  a  scrap  of  very  dirty,  wrinkled  paper,  which 
he  extended  without  a  word. 

Amazed,  Donald  took  it  and  tried  to  read  the 
hastily  scribbled  contents.  The  handwriting  alone 
made  his  heart  leap  with  surprise  and  hope.  It  must 
have  been  five  minutes  before  he  finished  struggling 
in  the  dim  light.  Then,  with  his  face  puckered  in  a 
scowl  of  perplexity,  he  turned  to  address  the  bearers 
of  the  message. 

They  were  gone.  So  intense  had  been  his  con- 
centration that  they  had  shufiled  away  in  the  dark- 
ness unnoticed. 


26  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

Still  scowling,  Donald  thrust  the  note  into  a 
pocket,  gathered  up  a  double  armful  of  spruce 
boughs,  and  went  inside  the  shanty.  There,  he  sat 
down  on  an  upturned  box,  and  pulled  forth  the  note 
again.    He  read: 

If  you  wish  to  do  the  company  a  great  service  drop  your 
pursuit  of  Charley  Seguls  and  head  for  Sturgeon  Lake. 
You  will  find  there  something  of  great  importance,  but  what 
it  is  I  have  no  idea,  as  my  informants  could  not  say.  There 
is  a  gathering  there,  but  I  know  nothing  more  than  that. 
In  sending  this  to  you  by  bearers  (they  ought  to  reach 
Fort  Dickey  almost  as  you  leave  in  search  of  Seguis),  I 
am  acting  on  my  own  responsibility.  What  you  said  the 
other  day  about  my  being  old  enough  to  think  for  myself 
has  taken  root,  you  see.  If  you  profit  by  this  suggestion 
I  shall  be  happy. 

Sincerely, 

Jean  Fitzpatrick. 

In  a  sort  of  stupefaction  induced  by  many 
emotions  clamoring  for  recognition  at  once,  Donald 
sat  staring  at  the  fire  while  the  meat  burned  black. 
In  love  though  he  was,  first  and  foremost  into  his 
mind  leaped  consideration  of  the  Company.  He  had 
been  sent  to  hunt  down  a  murderer.  By  the  unwrit- 
ten code,  he  must  hang  to  the  trail  like  a  bulldog, 
even  if  the  chase  required  six  months  and  led  him 
through  the  Selkirks  to  the  Pacific.  Charley  Seguis 
must  answer  before  a  tribunal  for  his  crime. 

Now  came  this  imperious  call  to  drop  the  pursuit, 
and  to  take  up  something  else,  which  was  claimed  to 
be  of  greater  importance  to  the  Company.    That  it 


A  MYSTERIOUS  MESSAGE  27 

was  of  great  moment  Donald  was  sure ;  else,  Jean,  a 
factor's  daughter,  would  not  have  sent  him  the  word. 
Since  she  sent  it,  why  had  it  not  been  official  from 
her  father?  Ah,  yes;  she  had  acted  upon  her  own 
responsibility.  Evidently,  she  had  received  word  of 
this  strange,  new  thing  through  the  Indian  woman 
who  served  her,  and  who  hated  her  father.  It  was 
probably  too  indefinite  to  bring  before  the  irascible 
old  factor,  and  the  girl  had  taken  this  method  of 
protecting  the  Company,  while  at  the  same  time  giv- 
ing him  a  chance  for  new  laurels. 

Knowing  Jean's  straightforward  truthfulness,  Mc- 
Tavish  dared  not  disregard  the  message.  He  knew 
there  was  something  in  it,  and  something  much  more 
grave  than  either  of  them  suspected,  probably.  But 
yet  —  to  leave  the  trail  of  Charley  Seguis!  He 
shook  his  head  distractedly,  and  came  to  his  senses 
in  time  to  rescue  the  pieces  of  caribou  before  they 
turned  to  cinders. 

The  fish  for  the  dogs  being  softened  to  a  certain 
pliancy,  he  fed  the  ravening  animals,  and  then  made 
a  meal  himself,  sitting  abstractedly  on  the  up-ended 
box,  his  thawed  bread  in  one  hand  and  his  chilling 
tea  in  the  other.  Meantime,  he  wrestled  stubbornly 
with  his  problem.  It  was  not  until  he  had  almost 
finished  his  first  pipe  that  he  came  to  a  decision. 
Then,  jumping  up,  he  slapped  his  thigh,  and  cried 
aloud : 

"  By  George !  Til  do  it.  Charley  Seguis  can  wait, 
ril  back  Jean's  common  sense  and  intuition  against 
the  blue  laws  of  the  whole  Hudson  Bay  Company." 


^8  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIE 

Presently,  he  began  to  dream  over  the  last  part 
of  the  almost  Impersonal  letter,  reading  Into  it  his 
own  fond  Interpretations,  and  holding  Imaginary  In- 
terviews with  this  girl,  who  looked  like  a  saint  In  a 
stained-glass  window,  because  of  the  glorious  aureole 
of  her  red-bronze  hair. 

What  a  woman  she  was  I  What  a  woman  I  Inno- 
cent, clean-minded,  vigorous,  virile  with  that  femi- 
nine aristocracy  of  perfect  pureness!  Ah,  she  was 
no  wife  for  your  dance-haunting  young  million- 
aire. The  man  who  won  her  must  fight  for  her, 
fight  like  a  tiger  for  its  young,  fight  even  the  girl 
herself,  because  in  her  unstirred  nature  was  all  the 
virginal  resistance  to  surrender  that  belongs  to  a  wild 
creature  of  the  dim  trails. 

So,  Donald  dreamed  on,  while  the  traveling  wolf- 
packs  howled  In  the  distance,  the  trees  split  with  the 
report  of  ordnance,  and  the  fire  burned  low. 


CHAPTER  IV 

INTO  THE   DANGER  ZONE 

T?ROM  VoudrIn*s  tumble-down  shanty  Sturgeon 
-^  Lake  was  nearly  a  hundred  miles  southwest. 
Given  rivers  and  lakes  to  traverse,  McTavish  could 
almost  do  the  distance  in  a  day,  for  MIstlsI,  his 
leader  dog,  was  an  animal  of  tremendous  strength 
and  remarkable  intelligence.  But  in  this  wilderness 
of  rock-strewn  barrens  and  thick  forest  it  would  take 
at  least  two. 

Leaving  notice  of  his  having  occupied  the  cabin 
by  marking  a  clean  board  with  a  charred  ember, 
McTavish  set  forth  again,  and  by  the  hardest  kind 
of  work  covered  fifty  miles  the  first  day.  The  sec- 
ond morning,  finding  caribou  tracks,  he  delayed  his 
departure  until  he  had  killed  a  fat  cow,  for  his  sup- 
plies were  running  low. 

His  way  now  led  up  one  of  the  tiny  tributaries  of 
the  Sachlgo.  At  a  point  directly  east  of  a  little  river 
that  emptied  into  the  southern  end  of  Sturgeon  Lake*, 
he  struck  across  country  again  until  he  reached  this 
stream.  From  there  his  work  was  simpler,  and  the 
dogs,  again  on  a  river-bed,  made  fast  time. 

Having  once  determined  to  give  up  his  chase  of 
Charley  Seguis  temporarily,  McTavish  put  the  mat- 
ter out  of  his  mind,  and  bent  all  his  energies  to  the 


30  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

work  at  hand.  Late  on  the  afternoon  of  the  second 
day,  he  knew  he  was  approaching  the  lake,  and  pro- 
ceeded cautiously,  hugging  the  banks  with  their  dark 
background  of  forests.  At  length,  the  shore  sud- 
denly widened,  and  he  looked  acro'ss  a  vast  expanse  of 
glaring  snow.  Ten  miles  ahead,  on  the  right  shore 
of  the  lake,  was  a  headland.  Pointing  this  out  to 
MIstlsI,  he  set  the  dog's  nose  toward  It,  and  climbed 
into  the  sledge.  The  lake  seemed  utterly  deserted. 
No  dark,  moving  figures  betrayed  the  presence  of 
men  or  dog-trains.  Under  cover  of  the  growing 
darkness,  he  felt  comparatively  secure,  and  resolved 
to  camp  for  the  night  under  the  lee  of  the  headland. 

And,  now,  a  faint  stirring  of  fear  that  Jean's  mes- 
sage had  been  a  false  alarm  took  possession  of  him. 
If  it  were  so,  his  pursuit  of  Charley  Seguis  was  de- 
layed just  that  much  longer.  No  feeling  of  shame 
accompanied  his  thought.  The  certainty  of  ultimate 
success  that  has  made  the  white  man  the  inevitable 
ruler  of  wildernesses  was  strong  in  him.  He  merely 
did  not  like  the  prospect  of  the  half-breed's  addi- 
tional start. 

Reaching  the  headland,  Donald  halted  the  dogs, 
and  disembarked.  He  had  turned  his  back  to  un- 
strap the  pack,  when  he  heard  a  sound  behind  him. 

"  Hands  up  I  "  said  a  stern  voice,  and,  whirling, 
McTavish  looked  into  the  barrels  of  two  leveled 
rifles  in  the  steady  hands  of  as  many  men. 

They  were  white  men,  and  the  captain  of  Fort 
Dickey  recognized  one  of  them  as  Voudrin,  the 
French  trapper.    His  hands  went  slowly  up. 


INTO  THE  DANGER  ZONE  31 

Protected  by  the  rifle  of  his  companion,  the  other 
relieved  Donald  of  the  rifle,  revolver,  sheath-knIfe, 
and  hooked-shaped  hunter's  knife.  Then,  they  per- 
mitted him  to  lower  his  hands.  Voudrin  climbed 
into  the  sledge,  and,  shouting,  **  Marche  done, 
marche  doncy  started  the  dogs  around  the  headland. 
His  companion  followed  on  foot  in  company  with 
the  captive. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  demanded  McTavish 
savagely,  his  blue  eyes  dark  with  anger.  '*  I  am 
McTavish,  of  the  Fort  Dickey  post,  and,  when  the 
factor  hears  of  this,  it  will  go  hard  with  you  men. 
I  am  on  ofiicial  business,  and  I  demand  an  explana- 
tion of  such  treatment." 

"  You'll  have  it  soon  enough,"  replied  the  other, 
unmoved.  "  You  see,  it  isn't  our  idea  that  the  fac- 
tor hear  of  the  occurrence." 

There  was  something  cold  and  threatening  in  his 
tone  that  caused  Donald  to  eye  the  fellow  curiously. 

"  Just  what  do  you  mean  by  that,  my  friend?  "  he 
Inquired. 

**  Don't  ask  so  many  questions,"  replied  the  other 
curtly,  and  continued  thereafter  to  maintain  a  stub- 
born silence. 

On  the  far  side  of  the  headland  they  came  upon 
very  definite  signs  of  civilization.  Tucked  Into  a 
little  bay  was  a  sort  of  settlement.  A  long,  rough 
log  house  was  the  main  building,  and  around  It  were 
grouped  some  score  or  more  shanties  such  as  that 
Voudrin  had  occupied  on  the  Beaver  River.  On  one 
side  of  the  settlement,  a  high  stockade  of  heavy  tim- 


32  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

ber  was  set.  It  appeared  that  it  was  at  first  intended 
to  surround  the  entire  group,  but  that  the  cold 
weather  had  put  a  stop  to  the  work. 

Voudrin,  with  the  dog-train  and  sledge,  was  al- 
ready ashore  on  the  beach  where  a  number  of  men 
had  run  down  from  the  large  main  building.  These 
now  advanced  over  the  frozen  lake  to  greet  the  two 
on  foot.  McTavish  looked  them  over  with  keen 
eyes,  memorizing  their  faces  for  future  use.  It  was 
not  long  before  he  located  Whiskey  Bill  and  a  num- 
ber of  the  other  hunters  and  trappers  that  were  fre- 
quent visitors  to  the  Dickey  River-post. 

In  almost  total  silence,  the  procession  reached  the 
beach,  and  wound  up  the  slight  declivity  to  the  large 
house  in  the  center  of  the  settlement.  Here  Mc- 
Tavish was  led  inside,  and  discovered  that  the  build- 
ing was  divided  off  into  a  number  of  small  rooms. 
Into  one  of  these  he  was  pushed,  and  the  heavy  door 
swung  after  him.  A  little  while  later  an  Indian 
packer  appeared  with  the  traps  that  had  been  taken 
off  his  sledge,  and  dumped  them  into  the  room,  tell- 
ing him  to  make  his  own  supper.  Nothing  was  miss- 
ing, even  matches,  and  McTavish  built  a  small  chip 
fire  such  as  he  was  accustomed  to  burn  on  the  trail, 
taking  the  material  from  a  pile  of  seasoned  logs  in 
one  corner  of  the  room.  The  floor  was  beaten  earth 
as  hard  as  a  rock. 

Perplexed  and  amazed  at  the  mysterious  goings- 
on  about  him,  the  Scotchman  vainly  sought  to  ex- 
plain the  presence  of  the  men  here,  and  his  own  ex- 
traordinary position.     Not  for  ten  years,  except  in 


INTO  THE  DANGER  ZONE  33 

the  case  of  the  pursued  criminal  turning  at  bay,  had 
an  officer  in  the  Company  been  subjected  to  such  in- 
sulting and  disrespectful  treatment.  Here,  discipline 
and  propriety,  the  two  cardinal  virtues  among  the 
Company's  servants,  had  been  grossly  violated,  and 
by  men  who  knew  the  consequences. 

Discipline  and  propriety!  On  those  great  beams 
of  organization  had  the  mighty  structure  of  the  Hud- 
son Bay  Trading  Company  been  built.  It  was  rever- 
ence for  them  that  caused  a  dozen  men  a  thousand 
miles  from  the  nearest  settlement  to  sit  down  to  din- 
ner in  order  of  precedence,  and  be  served  correctly 
in  that  order.  It  was  reverence  for  them  that  caused 
traders  to  thrash  insolent  Indians  two  years  after 
their  insults  had  been  spoken ! 

And  these  men  had  violated  all  the  canons  of  this 
discipline,  frankly  and  completely,  knowing  the  pen- 
alty, but  evidently  utterly  careless  of  it.  McTavish 
could  not  but  feel  a  certain  admiration  for  their 
daring.  To  him,  as  to  nearly  all  of  Its  servants,  the 
Company  was  a  huge,  unseen.  Intangible  force  ;  a 
stern  monster  that  demanded  of  its  subjects  such 
loyalty  and  unfaltering  obedience  as  patriots  rarely 
give  their  country's  cause.  A  stern,  but  kindly,  mas- 
ter in  good  repute,  and  a  grim,  relentless  avenger 
in  111. 

When  he  had  finished  his  meal,  Donald  McTavish 
filled  his  pipe,  and  lay  along  the  ground  on  his  couch 
made  of  robes,  awaiting  events. 

Barely  half  an  hour  later,  footsteps  sounded  out- 
side the  door,  and  a  pounding  upon  it  brought  him 


34  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

to  his  feet.  Presently  the  timbers  swung  back,  and 
a  man  stood  in  the  opening. 

''  Come  with  me,"  the  newcomer  said,  and  Mc- 
Tavish  preceded  him  down  the  narrow  corridor  that 
ran  the  length  of  the  long  building. 

Two-thirds  of  the  distance  they  had  walked,  when 
suddenly  the  walls  fell  away,  and  Donald  found  him- 
self In  a  large,  low  room,  bare-floored  and  cheerless, 
that  occupied  the  other  third.  Smoky  torches  of 
wood  standing  out  from  crevices  In  the  logs  gave 
light,  and  around  the  wall  he  could  see  perhaps  fifty 
men,  standing  or  squatting.  Directly  before  him  at 
the  opposite  end  was  a  sort  of  low  platform,  on 
which  a  huge  stump  served  for  a  table,  and  another 
smaller  one,  behind  it,  for  a  chair.  A  lone  man 
stood  there,  looking  at  him.  Owing  to  the  smoke 
and  the  dim  light,  McTavIsh  could  not  at  first  make 
out  his  features.  Then,  with  a  start  of  amazement 
he  recognized  him.  ...  It  was  Charley  Seguis. 

How  had  he  got  here?  What  was  he  doing  here, 
this  intelligent  half-breed?  These  and  a  hundred 
other  questions  flashed  through  the  prisoner's  mind. 

Suddenly,  Seguis  began  to  speak.  He  was  a  tall, 
finely-formed  man,  with  a  clearness  of  cut  to  his  fea- 
tures that  betokened  English  parentage  on  the  one 
side,  and  the  blood  of  chiefs  on  the  other. 

"  We  are  in  council  to-night  to  decide  what  to  do 
with  Captain  McTavIsh,"  he  said  slowly,  using  the 
excellent  EngHsh  at  his  command.  "  How  he  has 
come  here,  I  do  not  know.  Who  told  him  of  the 
Free-Traders'  Brotherhood,  I  do  not  know.     As  one 


INTO  THE  DANGER  ZONE  35 

man  against  another,  we  have  nothing  against  him. 
He  was  always  good  to  us,  and  gave  us  large  pres- 
ents for  our  best  skins.  But  he  is  one  of  the  Hudson 
Bay  men,  and,  therefore,  something  must  be  done. 
It  must  be  done  quickly.  We  are  in  council;  each 
man  shall  have  his  say." 

Donald's  eyes  had  become  more  and  more  accus- 
tomed to  the  dimness  in  the  huge  room.  Now,  look- 
ing about,  he  saw  great  bales  of  pelts  piled  indis- 
criminately, thousands  and  thousands  of  dollars' 
worth.  So,  these  were  free-traders!  This  was  the 
magnet  that  had  drawn  the  hardy  trappers  from 
their  allegiance  to  the  Hudson  Bay!  He  shrugged 
his  shoulders.  Whatever  happened  to  him,  it  was 
they  who  would  suffer  in  the  end,  for  this  mighty, 
intangible  thing,  the  Company,  did  not  look  kindly 
upon  free-traders.  Ever  since  1859,  when  the  mo- 
nopoly legally  expired,  free-traders  had  been  at  war 
with  the  great  concern,  and  in  the  Northwest  had 
established  a  brisk  and  growing  competition. 

But  here,  in  the  vast  district  between  Labrador 
and  the  west  shore  of  the  bay,  their  invasions  had, 
without  exception,  met  with  failure.  More  than 
that,  those  brave  men  who  had  undertaken  to  beard 
this  lion  in  his  iron  wilderness  had  very  rarely  re- 
turned to  tell  the  tale  of  the  bearding.  Warned 
once  or  twice,  the  more  timid  retired,  bafHed  and  un- 
successful. Persistent,  the  trader  fell  a  victim  to  gun 
"  accidents,''  canoe  "  upsets,"  or  even  starvation 
carefully  engineered  by  unseen,  but  competent, 
agents. 


36  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

All  these  things  were  traditions  of  the  Company, 
and  McTavish  had  been  brought  up  on  them.  He 
had  never  taken  part  in  such  doings,  but  he  was  cer- 
tain in  his  own  mind  that  they  were  not  all  fiction, 
for  such  fictions  do  not  spring  to  life  miraculously 
in  regions  where  emotions  are  naked  and  primitive, 
and  existence  is  pared  down  to  the  raw. 

Here  were  men  who  had  evidently  banded  them- 
selves into  a  Free-Traders'  Brotherhood.  How 
many  had  enlisted  in  its  ranks  besides  those  in  this 
room,  he  had  no  idea;  perhaps  there  were  hun- 
dreds. It  had  evidently  been  well  organized,  for  it 
had  taken  shape  with  amazing  swiftness  and  cer- 
tainty. 

Jean  had  been  right.  This  was  more  important, 
vastly  more  important,  than  the  pursuit  of  a  rene- 
gade half-breed.  .  .  .  But  that  half-breed  was  him- 
self at  the  head  of  the  organization. 

*'  That's  what  half  an  intelligence  will  do  for  a 
man  I  "  said  McTavish  to  himself,  with  contempt. 
"  This  fellow  is  just  bright  enough  to  be  better  than 
his  class.  He  therefore  immediately  sets  himself  up 
as  a  leader  to  buck  the  Company.    God  help  him !  " 

But  the  captain's  thoughts  almost  immediately 
turned  to  his  own  case.  What  was  that  old  Indian 
saying?    He  listened. 

"  In  the  past  history  of  the  Company,  when  a  rival 
appeared,  there  had  been  much  killing.  Murder, 
violence,  intrigue,  conspiracy  —  all  these  have  flour-* 
ished  when  a  rival  took  the  field.    We  may  look  for 


INTO  THE  DANGER  ZONE  37 

them  now,  and  he  who  strikes  first  forestalls  the 
other.  It  is,  of  course,  impossible  for  this  Captain 
McTavish  to  reach  Fort  Dickey  or  Fort  Severn 
again.  Three  sentences  from  him,  and  we  are  dis- 
covered, and  the  chase  begun.  We  are  not  strong 
enough  yet  for  open  conflict.  By  spring,  perhaps, 
but  not  now.  McTavish  must  never  tell.  A  strong 
arm,  a  well-directed  blow  — " 

**  But,  my  good  brother,  you  do  not  counsel  mur- 
der in  cold  blood?  "  asked  Seguis,  in  a  tone  of  hor- 
ror. **  To  kill  our  old  friend.  Captain  McTavish, 
because  he  has  happened  to  come  upon  us  here  — 
oh,  no,  no,  no!  It  is  impossible.  But,  yet,"  he 
added,  "  he  must  not  tell  what  he  has  seen." 

He  turned  to  McTavish. 

"  Will  you  give  an  oath  never  to  reveal  what  you 
have  seen  and  heard  here?  " 

"  No,"  Donald  said  bluntly.    "  I  won't" 

"  By  refusal,  you  sign  your  own  death-warrant," 
warned  the  half-breed,  not  unkindly.  "  For  the  sake 
of  all  of  us,  give  this  oath." 

"  Seguis,"  replied  Donald,  just  as  quietly,  "  you 
know  you  ask  the  impossible.  Let's  not  waste  any 
more  time  over  it.  Decide  what  you  are  going  to 
do  with  me  —  and  do  it  I  " 

"Why  not  keep  him  with  us  here  a  prisoner?" 
suggested  an  old  buck;  only  to  be  cried  down  loudly 
as  a  doddering  dotard,  whose  blood  had  turned  to 
water. 

"  What?  "  one  shouted,  wrathfuUy.     "  Have  an- 


38  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

other  mouth  to  feed  all  winter,  while  the  owner  of 
it  stays  idle?  Never!  Anyone  that  eats  with  us 
must  work/' 

For  a  long  minute,  Seguis  sat  with  his  chin  in  his 
hand,  meditating.  Then,  he  ordered  Donald's  cap- 
tors to  take  their  prisoner  back  to  the  little  room, 
saying : 

"  I  have  a  plan  in  mind,  which  we  must  discuss — 
privately,  out  of  the  captain's  hearing."  He  turned 
to  the  Hudson  Bay  man,  and  spoke  decisively:  "  You 
shall  hear  our  decision  to-night,  sir,  whatever  it  is." 

Without  answer,  Donald  wheeled,  and  walked 
away  in  the  company  of  his  guards  to  the  room  that 
served  as  a  cell,  where  again  he  was  left  in  solitary 
confinement. 


CHAPTER  V 

DEATH   TRAIL 

TT  was,  perhaps,  an  hour  later  when  Donald,  just 
^  beginning  to  drowse  before  his  little  fire,  heard 
someone  approach  and  unlock  his  door,  for  the  sec- 
ond time  that  night.  In  anticipation  of  any  desperate 
emergency,  the  captive  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  re- 
treated to  a  corner  of  the  room  farthest  from  the 
door,  watching  with  wary  eyes  for  his  visitor's  ap- 
pearance. 

"Who  is  it?'*  he  demanded,  as  the  door  was 
flung  open. 

"  It's  me,  Charley  Seguis,"  was  the  reply,  in  the 
voice  of  the  half-breed.  Even  in  this  moment  of 
stress,  Donald  noticed  half-wonderingly  the  mellow 
cadences  in  the  voice  of  this  man  of  mixed  blood. 
While  speaking,  Seguls  had  entered  the  room,  and 
he  now  shut  the  door  behind  him.  "  I  come  friend- 
ly," he  continued,  with  a  suggestion  of  softness  In 
his  tones,  though  there  was  no  lack  of  firmness.  "  I 
wish  to  talk  friendly  for  half  an  hour.  Will  you  sit 
with  me  by  the  fire  ?  " 

"  I  don't  trust  you,  Seguis,"  retorted  Donald, 
bluntly.  "  If  you  have  been  delegated  by  lot  to  kill 
me,  do  It  at  once.  That  would  be  the  only  possible 
kindliness  from  you  to  me.    I  can  stand  anything  bet- 

39 


40  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

ter  than  waiting.  ...  I  am  unarmed  —  as  you 
know." 

The  half-breed  shook  his  head  slowly,  as  though 
in  mourning  that  his  intentions  should  be  thus  ques- 
tioned. 

"  I  don't  come  to  harm  you,"  he  said  at  last,  with 
a  certain  dignity.  "  I've  given  you  my  word  that  I 
come  friendly.  I  am  armed,  but  that  is  to  prevent 
your  attacking  me." 

Donald  uttered  an  ejaculation  of  impatience. 

"Absurd I"  he  exclaimed.  "Why  should  I  at- 
tack you?"  For  the  instant,  in  realization  of  his 
own  plight,  he  had  forgotten  that  the  original  pur- 
pose of  his  quest  had  been  the  capture  of  this  man 
who  was  now  become  his  captor.  .  .  .  But  the  half- 
breed's  words  recalled  the  fact  forcibly  enough. 

"  Don't  you  suppose,  captain,  that  I've  known  you 
were  on  my  trail  for  days  ?  I  have  the  sense  to  know 
that.  But  what  brought  you  veering  off  the  trail  to 
Sturgeon  Lake  Is  beyond  me." 

Donald  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief.  At  least,  Jean's 
message  was  unknown  to  the  leader  of  the  free-trad- 
ers, and  there  would  be  no  risk  of  the  girl's  suffer- 
ing in  person  for  her  loyal  zeal.  In  this  relief,  his 
thoughts  reverted  curiously  to  the  crime  he  had  been 
sent  to  revenge. 

"  Did  you  kill  Cree  Johnny?  "  he  demanded,  ab- 
ruptly. 

The  face  of  the  half-breed  remained  immobile, 
inscrutable. 

"  I'll  tell  you  nothing  about  that,"  was  the  crisp 


DEATH  TRAIL  41 

reply.  "  Let's  talk  of  what  is  more  important  now, 
and  that  is  yourself  —  and  what's  to  become  of  you." 
"  As  you  will,"  Donald  agreed,  grudgingly.  It 
wounded  his  self-esteem  that  this  man  should  be  able 
thus  to  manage  the  interview  at  pleasure.  Yet,  even 
while  his  anger  mounted  high,  the  Scotchman  felt 
himself  compelled  to  an  involuntary  admiration  for 
the  authoritative  composure  in  the  manner  of  one 
who,  by  the  accident  of  birth,  was  no  better  than  a 
barbarian  —  was,  indeed,  something  worse,  since  the 
crossing  of  the  civilized  blood  with  the  savage  is 
usually  a  disastrous  thing.  .  This  was  the  Hudson 
Bay  man's  first  experience  of  indignity  visited  on 
himself,  and,  for  that  reason,  he  felt  a  double  humili- 
ation over  the  seriousness  of  his  situation.  Exas- 
peration grew  in  him  over  the  fact  that  even  now  his 
many  and  varied  emotions  did  not  include  in  the 
least  such  repulsion  as  he  had  imagined  a  tete-a-tete 
with  a  murderer  must  produce.  On  the  contrary,  he 
was  aware  of  an  indefinable  air  of  genuineness,  of 
nobility  even,  about  this  Montagnais  Englishman.  It 
was  incredible,  surely  —  none  the  less,  it  was  true. 
Donald's  instinct  set  him  to  wondering  involuntarily 
whether,  after  all,  the  man  before  him  could  really 
be  guilty  of  the  crime  charged.  His  reason  rallied 
to  argument  that  this  fellow  was  of  a  vicious  strain, 
capable  of  any  treachery,  of  any  cowardly  violence. 
In  such  as  Seguis,  the  vices  of  two  races  blend,  for 
vice  knows  little  distinction  of  tribe  or  creed;  the 
mingling  of  a  dozen  bloods  will  but  serve  to 
strengthen  the  violence  in  each.    The  virtues,  on  the 


42  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

contrary,  are  matters  of  geography,  in  great  part  — 
to  each  race  its  own.  They  are  prone  to  vanishing 
in  the  mixed  blood.  Usually,  too,  the  civilized  white 
man  who  degrades  himself  to  mate  with  a  savage 
woman  is  himself  a  wastrel,  essentially  evil,  likely 
to  beget  nothing  good. 

Such  reasoning  is  sound  enough,  in  the  main,  as 
Donald,  despite  his  bewilderment,  knew  well.  Never- 
theless, in  this  instance  the  product  of  miscegenation 
seemed  to  offer  in  his  own  person  a  subtle  contra- 
diction. The  man  stood  in  a  serenity  that  pro- 
claimed an  assured  self-respect.  The  dark  eyes 
above  the  high  cheekbones  were  glowing  clearly,  as 
they  stared  in  level  interrogation  on  the  prisoner. 
The  features,  coarse,  yet  of  a  pleasing  harmonious- 
ness,  were  set  in  lines  of  a  strength  that  was  at  once 
calm  and  masterful.  Whatever  might  be  the  black- 
ness hidden  in  his  heart,  the  half-breed's  outer  seem- 
ing was  one  to  command  respect.  ...  In  quick  ap- 
preciation of  the  truth,  Donald  was  constrained  to 
admit  that  his  own  conduct  thus  far  had  not  been  of 
a  sort  to  match  the  courtesy  of  his  jailer. 

"  What  do  you  want  to  say  to  me  about  myself?  " 
he  questioned,  finally;  his  voice  came  milder  than 
hitherto. 

Seguis  answered  immediately,  with  directness. 

"  After  an  hour  in  council,  I  come  here,  delegated 
by  the  brotherhood,  to  make  you  a  proposition."  His 
gaze  met  that  of  his  prisoner  fairly,  as  he  continued: 
"  The  Hudson  Bay  Company  is  a  hard  master,  as 
you  know  very  well.    It  expects  more,  and  gives  less, 


DEATH  TRAIL  43 

than  any  other  organization  in  the  world.  If  it's 
hard  to  us,  then  it's,  also,  hard  to  you.  After  your 
years  with  the  Company,  do  you  think  youVe 
achieved  the  position  you  deserve?  Certainly  not! 
We're  all  agreed  on  that."  The  half-breed  appeared 
to  hesitate  for  a  moment,  then  threw  back  his  head 
proudly,  in  a  gesture  of  resolve,  and  continued  with 
a  new  emphasis  in  his  words. 

"  Can't  you  see  that  your  superior,  the  factor  at 
Fort  Severn,  hates  you  bitterly?  I,  myself  —  I've 
seen  things  there.  Last  summer,  I  was  at  the  fort, 
you  remember.  I  was  there  all  the  time  you  were. 
I  watched  you  —  and  Miss  Jean  — " 

"  Stop !  "  Donald  interrupted,  furiously.  .  .  .  He 
fought  back  his  rage  as  best  he  might,  and  went  on 
less  violently.  "  Now,  no  more  of  this  beating  about 
the  bush.  Just  say  what  you  have  to  say,  and  be- 
gone !  " 

Seguis  remained  wholly  undisturbed  by  the  out- 
burst.   At  once,  he  went  on  speaking,  imperturbably : 

"  I  was  about  to  state,"  he  said  evenly,  "  that  I 
have  noticed  the  factor's  expression  behind  your 
back,  and  I  want  to  warn  you  against  him.  He's 
your  superior,  you  know,  Captain  McTavish.  Well, 
then,  how  can  you  expect  to  rise  in  the  Company, 
when  he's  your  enemy?  "  He  paused,  waiting  for  a 
reply. 

Again,  Donald  experienced  a  sensation  that  was 
akin  to  dismay.  He  had  not  expected  such  perspi- 
cacity on  the  part  of  one  whom  he  had  contemptu- 
ously esteemed  as  merely  a  savage.     Moreover,  in 


44  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

addition  to  his  indignant  confusion  over  the  intro- 
duction of  Jean's  name  into  the  conversation,  there 
was  something  vastly  disturbing  to  him  in  realiza- 
tion of  the  fact  that  his  own  belief  of  hostility  on 
the  part  of  the  factor  was  thus  proven  by  the  ob- 
servation of  the  half-breed.  To  hide  his  discon- 
certment, the  young  man  ignored  the  question  of 
Seguls,  and  spoke  sharply: 

"  Get  to  the  point  —  if  there  is  one  I  " 

"  The  point's  this,''  came  the  instant  reply,  uttered 
with  a  slight  show  of  asperity;  "that  we,  the 
Brotherhood  of  Free-Traders,  offer  you  a  position 
with  us  —  at  our  head,  if  you'll  take  it.  In  other 
words,  I'll  step  down  to  second  place  —  if  you'll 
step  up  to  first." 

Donald  stared  at  the  speaker  in  amazement  that 
any  one  should  dare  in  such  fashion  to  suggest  the 
possibility  of  his  turning  traitor.  Seguls,  however, 
endured  his  angry  scrutiny  without  any  lessening  of 
the  tranquillity  that  had  characterized  him  through- 
out the  interview.  So,  since  silent  rebuke  failed  com- 
pletely, the  Hudson  Bay  official  was  driven  to  verbal 
expression  of  his  resentment. 

"  What  cause  have  I  ever  given  for  you  to  be- 
lieve that  I  was  anything  but  loyal  to  the  Company?  ' 
he  demanded,  harshly. 

"  None,"  Seguls  admitted. 

"  If  I've  given  no  cause  for  such  an  idea,"  Don- 
ald went  on,  fiercely,  "  what  reason  have  you  to 
come  here  and  insult  me  with  such  a  proposition  as 
you've  just  offered?" 


DEATH  TRAIL  45 

In  his  shame  over  a  proposal  that  in  itself  con- 
tained an  accusation  of  disloyalty,  the  young  man 
had  thought  only  for  himself.  He  gave  no  heed  to 
the  significance  of  the  suggested  plan  in  its  bearing 
on  the  one  who  offered  it.  He  failed  altogether  to 
appreciate  the  sacrifice  that  Charley  Seguis  stood 
ready  to  make.  The  half-breed  was,  in  fact,  as  he 
had  just  declared,  at  the  head  of  the  organization 
that  called  itself  the  Brotherhood  of  Free-Traders. 
Now,  from  his  own  announcement,  he  was  prepared 
to  withdraw  from  the  chief  place,  in  order  to  make 
room  for  Captain  McTavish.  It  might  well  be  be- 
lieved that  the  man  had  gratified  his  life's  ambition 
in  attaining  such  eminence  among  his  fellow  foes 
of  the  Company,  yet  he  was  willing  to  renounce  his 
authority  in  favor  of  one  whom  he  deemed  worthy 
to  supersede  him.  Here,  surely,  was  a  course  of 
action  that  had  no  origin  in  selfishness,  but  sprang 
rather  from  some  ideal  of  duty,  rudely  shaped,  per- 
haps, but  vital  in  its  influence.  .  .  .  Yet,  to  all  this, 
Donald  gave  no  concern  just  now,  even  though  at 
his  question  Seguis  shrank  as  if  from  a  physical  blow. 

Then,  the  half-breed  straightened  to  the  full  of 
his  height,  and  spoke  with  coldness  in  which  was  a 
hint  of  scorn  under  unjust  accusation. 

"  I  come  to  you,  a  prisoner  and  a  burden  on  us," 
he  said,  bitterly.  "  I  come  with  courteous  words, 
and,  in  return,  I  get  insults.  In  spite  of  your  atti- 
tude, I'll  give  you  another  chance  for  your  life.  .  .  . 
Will  you  come  into  the  brotherhood  as  its  leader?  " 

The  threatening  phrase  in  the  other's  words  had 


46  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIE 

caught  and  held  Donald's  attention  with  sinister  in- 
tentness. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  he  demanded.  "A  chance 
for  my  life?  " 

The  explanation  was  prompt,  unequivocal. 

"  I  mean  that,  if  you  don't  accept  this  offer,  your 
life  isn't  worth  —  that!"  With  the  word,  Seguls 
snapped  under  his  heel  a  twig  from  the  little  fire. 
"  Either  you  stay  with  us,  and  know  everything  — 
or  you  go  from  us,  to  die  with  the  secret !  "  The 
voice  was  monotonous  in  its  emotionless  calm,  but 
It  was  inexorable. 

At  the  saying,  a  chill  of  fear  fell  on  Donald,  a 
fear  formless  at  the  first;  then,  swiftly,  taking 
malignant,  fatal  shape.  Out  of  memory  leaped  tales 
of  terror,  unbelieved,  yet  hideous.  Now  was  bom  a 
new  credulity,  begotten  of  dread.  His  face  whitened 
a  little,  and  his  eyes  widened  as  he  regarded  the 
half-breed  with  growing  alarm.  His  voice  quavered, 
despite  his  will,  when  he  put  the  question  that  was 
tormenting  him: 

"  You  don't  mean  that  you'd  send  me  on  the  — 
on  the  Death  Trail?"  he  cried,  aghast.  The  enor- 
mity of  the  peril  swept  over  him  in  a  flood,  set  him 
a-tremble.  Though  he  questioned  so  wildly,  he 
knew  the  truth,  and  the  awfulness  of  It  put  his  man- 
hood In  revolt,  made  him  coward  for  the  moment. 
The  Death  Traill  .  .  .  He  had  not  been  prepared 
for  that.  To  back  against  the  wall,  and  fight  to  the 
end  like  a  trapped  animal  were  one  thing  —  a  thing 


DEATH  TRAIL  47 

for  which  he  had  been  prepared.  .  .  .  But,  the 
Death  Trail  —  ! 

Suddenly,  with  the  Incongruity  that  is  frequent  in 
a  highly  wrought  mind,  his  memory  slipped  back 
through  the  years  to  the  time  when  first  he  heard 
of  this  half-mythical  thing,  which  was  called  the 
Death  Trail.  He  had  run  away  from  his  nurse  in 
Victoria  Square,  in  Montreal,  and,  after  his  recap- 
ture, the  girl  had  threatened  him  with  the  Death 
Trail  as  a  punishment,  should  he  ever  repeat  his 
offense.  That  night,  he  had  questioned  his  father, 
the  commissioner  of  the  Company,  as  to  this  fear- 
some thing.  .  .  .  And  the  commissioner  had  merely 
laughed,  unconcernedly. 

"  Oh,  that,  my  boy!  "  he  had  exclaimed.  "  Why, 
that's  an  exploded  yarn.  Some  people  say  the  Com- 
pany sent  free-traders  to  their  deaths  that  way.  But 
who  knows?     Who  can  tell?     I  can't." 

Then,  the  father  had  added  some  description  as 
to  the  nature  of  this  rumored  Death  Trail:  how  a 
man  with  a  knife,  but  no  gun;  snowshoes,  but  no 
dogs;  and  not  even  a  compass,  was  turned  loose  in 
the  forest  with  a  few  days'  food  on  his  back,  and 
told  to  save  himself  —  how  he  wandered,  starving 
and  weakened  day  by  day,  until  the  terrible  cold 
snuffed  out  his  life,  or  he  was  pulled  down  by  a  rov- 
ing wolf-pack. 

And  It  was  this  fate  that  faced  Donald  now.  .  .  . 
The  words  of  the  half-breed  In  answer  to  his  ques- 
tion confirmed  the  dread  suspicion. 


48  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

"  So  the  council  has  decided/'  came  the  quiet  state- 
ment, in  reply  to  the  prisoner's  startled  question. 
"  We  can't  kill  you  outright.  To  do  that  would  be 
more  than  flesh  and  blood  —  even  Indian  flesh  and 
blood  —  could  stand  In  your  case,  Captain  McTav- 
Ish.  You've  been  our  friend  for  three  years.  You 
have  never  harmed  us.  We've  traded  with  you 
peaceably.  But  we  can't  keep  you,  and  we  can't  let 
you  return  with  our  secret.  All  that's  left  is  the 
Death  Trail.  It's  the  only  way  out  for  us.  .  .  .  It 
has  been  decided  on." 

"No  —  oh,  no!  "  Donald  cried  imploringly,  sud- 
denly impassioned  by  the  stark  horror  of  this  thing 
that  stared  at  him  out  of  the  darkness.  "  No,  I 
beg  of  you.  Anything  but  that!  Tell  off  a  squad; 
take  me  out,  and  shoot  me.  .  .  .  Or,  better  yet, 
let  me  fight  for  my  life,  somehow !  " 

Seguls  shook  his  head  in  denial.  There  was  com- 
miseration in  his  steady  glance,  but  there  was  no 
suggestion  of  yielding  in  his  voice  as  he  answered. 

"  For  our  own  sakes,  we  can't,"  he  explained  con- 
cisely. "  Any  of  those  things  would  bring  us  to  the 
gallows,  and  we  can't  afford  that." 

"Why  should  you  care?"  Donald  retorted  vin- 
dictively, with  futile  fierceness.  "  You're  going  to 
swing  anyway,  as  soon  as  another  man  can  get  on 
your  trail."  He  spoke  with  all  the  viciousness  he 
could  contrive,  hoping  by  insults  to  arouse  the  fury 
of  the  half-breed,  and  thus  provoke  the  fight  for 
which  he  longed. 

But  the  keen  mind  of  Seguis  detected  instantly 


DEATH  TRAIL  49 

the  ruse,  and  he  merely  smiled  by  way  of  answer,  a 
smile  that  was  half-pitiful,  half-mocking. 

*'  You  might  try  suicide,"  he  suggested,  with  an 
intent  of  kindness.  "  That  way  would  spare  the  feel- 
ings of  us  all." 

It  was  Donald's  turn  to  shake  his  head  in  refusal 
now.  As  yet,  such  an  action  on  his  part  appeared 
impossible  to  him.  The  love  of  hfe  was  too  strong 
to  permit  the  conceivability  of  such  a  choice.  He  was 
too  much  the  fighter  to  confess  defeat,  and  so  lay 
down  his  life  voluntarily.  The  McTavishes  were 
not  in  the  habit  of  giving  up  any  struggle  before  it 
was  fairly  begun.  .  .  .  But  the  antagonism  aroused 
in  him  by  the  suggestion  steadied  his  nerves,  restored 
him  to  some  measure  at  least  of  his  usual  self-con- 
trol. 

"  When  do  I  go  ?  "  he  asked.  Face  to  face  with 
the  inevitable,  a  desolate  calm  fell  upon  him. 

"  To-morrow  morning,"  Seguis  replied,  stolidly. 
Then,  abruptly,  the  half-breed's  manner  softened, 
and  he  spoke  in  a  different  tone.  "  We're  all  dis- 
appointed. Captain  McTavish,  that  you  won't  join 
us.  We've  been  hoping  for  that  —  not  for  your 
death.  And,  perhaps,  you  don't  quite  understand, 
after  all.  We're  starting  this  brotherhood  honor- 
ably, with  no  malice  toward  any  man.  There's 
still  hope  for  you,  if  you'll  give  your  oath  not  to 
divulge  what  you've  learned  here,  and  not  to  follow 
me  in  this  Cree  Johnny  affair.  If  you'll  do  that, 
we'll  give  you  your  belongings,  and  set  you  on  your 
way,  and — " 


50  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

Donald  held  up  his  hand,  with  a  gesture  of 
finality. 

"  You  know  I  can't  do  that/'  he  said,  drearily. 
*'  Don't  make  it  any  harder  for  me.  I  understand 
your  position  now,  in  a  way,  and  I  suppose  I'll  have 
to  take  my  medicine.  But  let  me  warn  you."  His 
tones  grew  menacing.  "  If  I  get  out  of  this  alive, 
though  the  chance  that  I  shall  isn't  one  in  a  thousand, 
you  will  pay  the  penalty  for  your  crime." 

The  half-breed  showed  no  trace  of  disturbance 
before  the  threat,  but  moved  away  toward  the  door. 

"  ril  take  the  risk  of  that,"  he  said  quietly;  and 
he  went  out  of  the  room. 

Left  to  himself,  Donald  fell  a  prey  to  melancholy 
brooding  for  a  few  brief  moments,  then  resolutely 
cast  the  mood  off  his  spirit.  He  was  little  given  to 
morbid  reflections.  Men  whose  lives  are  daily  liable 
to  forfeit  rarely  are.  It  was  characteristic  of  him 
that,  in  this  supreme  hour  of  peril,  his  chief  distress 
was  over  the  injury  wrought  on  the  Company  he 
served,  for  which  he  was  about  to  lay  down  his  life. 
If  only  he  might  send  warning !  If  only,  even  in  his 
last  minutes  of  life,  he  might  meet  a  friendly  trapper, 
tell  the  great  news,  and  send  a  messenger  speeding 
north  to  Fort  Severn,  or  east  to  Fort  Dickey!  That 
much  accomplished,  he  could  resign  himself  to  die. 
.  .  .  Such  the  loyalty  and  devotion  that  this  grim, 
silent,  far-reaching  thing,  the  Company,  breeds  in  its 
servants  I 

Of  a  sudden,  another  thought  brought  new  bitter- 
ness to  his  soul,  for,  despite  all  the  masterfulness  of 


DEATH  TRAIL  51 

his  loyalty  to  the  Company,  he  was  yet  a  man  and 
a  lover  with  a  heart  brimming  over  fondness  for 
the  one  woman.  Now,  it  came  to  him  that,  were  he 
indeed  to  die  somewhere  out  there  in  the  wilderness, 
starved,  frozen,  alone,  Jean  would  never  know  how 
his  last  act  had  been  in  the  faithful  following  of  her 
command.  No,  she  could  never  know  the  truth  con- 
cerning his  fate.  There  was  poignant  torment  in  the 
thought.  It  might  be  months,  years  even,  before  his 
bleached,  unrecognizable  skeleton  would  be  found 
somewhere  in  the  remotest  waste,  with  the  bones  of 
a  wolf  or  two  beside  it,  to  indicate  his  desperate  last 
stand. 

With  difficulty,  McTavish  shook  off  the  evil 
thoughts  that  preyed  upon  him,  and  stretched  his 
blankets  and  robes  on  the  hard  earth.  Then,  he 
cast  more  wood  on  his  fire,  and  wrapped  himself 
snugly,  covering  his  head  completely,  Indian  fash- 
ion, to  prevent  his  face  from  freezing. 

It  was  an  hour  before  sleep  came  to  him,  and  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  had  scarcely  dropped  off  when 
he  felt  himself  shaken  by  the  shoulder,  and  told  to 
get  up. 

For  a  moment,  Donald  did  not  realize  where  he 
was,  then  the  horrid  truth  rushed  in  upon  him  with 
sickening  reality,  and  he  sat  up,  blinking.  His  com- 
panion, he  saw,  was  an  Indian,  who  began  to  cook 
breakfast  over  the  fire,  upon  which  he  had  thrown 
more  wood  immediately  after  his  entrance. 

McTavish  forced  himself  to  eat  heartily  this  last 
full  meal  he  was,  perhaps,  ever  to  know.     Then, 


52  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

obeying  the  guttural  words  of  the  Indian,  he  made 
his  blankets  into  a  pack,  and  unfalteringly  followed 
outside. 

There,  the  men  were  gathered  around  a  dog- 
train,  with  two  trappers,  who,  McTavish  knew  in- 
stinctively, were  to  be  his  companions  for  a  distance 
into  the  wilderness.  Throwing  his  blankets  on  the 
sledge,  where  he  observed  also  a  small  pack  of  pro- 
visions, he  climbed  aboard. 

Now,  Charley  Seguls  appeared,  and  offered  the 
Hudson  Bay  man  a  last  chance.  But  Donald  waved 
him  aside,  and  requested  that  the  start  be  made  at 
once.  Then,  without  a  sound  except  the  tinkling  of 
the  bells  on  the  dogs'  harness,  the  train  got  under 
way,  and  the  last  thing  the  Scotchman  saw  as  he 
plunged  into  the  woods  was  the  silent  group  of  men 
looking  after  him  from  in  front  of  the  big  log  house. 

Straight  north  they  took  him,  into  the  wildest 
country  of  all  that  desolation.  Through  forest  aisles, 
beside  great  expanses  of  muskeg,  over  barren  rock 
ridges,  wound  the  unmarked  trail.  An  army  of 
caribou,  drifting  south  in  the  distance,  was  all  the 
life  the  doomed  man  saw  in  that  long  morning.  Even 
the  small  live  creatures  seemed  to  have  deserted  this 
maddening  region. 

At  noon,  they  camped  for  an  hour,  and  then,  with 
scarcely  a  word,  took  up  the  trail  again.  At  last, 
when  the  darkness  had  begun  to  come,  one  of  the 
Indians  halted  the  dogs,  and  motioned  McTavish 
off  the  sledge.  While  he  was  turning  the  dogs 
around,  the  other  laid  the  victim's  pack  on  the  snow 


DEATH  TRAIL  53 

and  presented  two  knives  —  the  long,  crooked 
hunter's  knife,  and  the  straight  sheath-knife. 

Then,  with  a  grunt,  they  "  mushed  "  the  dogs  on 
the  back  trail,  and  left  the  Hudson  Bay  man  alone 
for  his  grapple  with  the  wilderness. 

For  a  time,  he  stood  there  dazed.  Then,  the  re- 
alization of  his  doom  rushed  upon  him,  and,  in  mute 
desperation,  he  made  a  few  swift  steps  after  the 
departed  sledge  as  though  he  would  overtake  it.  But, 
in  a  moment,  he  recovered  himself,  and  went  back 
to  where  his  pitiful  belongings  rested  on  the  crusted 
snow.  The  stern  resolve,  the  iron  will  that  had 
made  the  McTavishes  great,  each  in  his  generation, 
returned  to  him,  and,  without  a  word,  he  faced  for- 
ward upon  the  Death  Trail. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   LAST   STAND 

1%yjORNING  found  the  world  swathed  in  a  great 
^^^  blanket  of  white.  Snow  that  started  as  Donald 
made  camp  had  fallen  steadily  through  the  dark 
hours,  so  that  now  rock  and  windfall  and  back  trail 
were  obliterated.  Even  the  pines  themselves  were 
conical  ghosts.  As  though  he  had  been  dropped  from 
the  skies,  McTavish  stood  absolutely  isolated  in  the 
trackless  waste. 

There  was  light  upon  the  earth,  but  the  leaden 
clouds  diffused  it  evenly,  so  that  he  could  not  dis- 
tinguish east  from  west,  or  south  from  north.  If 
there  had  ever  been  a  trail  blazed  here,  the  big  snow- 
flakes  had  long  since  hidden  the  notches  in  the  bark. 

Mechanically,  the  man  reached  into  his  pack  for 
the  compass  he  carried.  A  moment's  search  failed 
to  reveal  it,  and  he  suddenly  stood  upright  again, 
cut  through  with  the  knowledge  that  it  had  been 
taken  from  him. 

How  should  he  tell  directions?  How  make  prog- 
ress except  in  fatal  circles  ? 

Looking  up  at  the  snowy  pine-tops,  he  scrutinized 
them  carefully.  Their  tips  seemed  to  lean  ever  so 
slightly  in  one  direction.  Fearful  lest  his  eyes  had  de- 
ceived him,  he  closed  them  for  a  few  moments,  and 

54 


THE  LAST  STAND  55 

then  looked  again.  The  trees  still  leaned  slightly  to 
the  right.  He  tried  others,  with  the  same  result. 
Good !  That  was  east !  Ever  in  nature  there  Is  the 
unconscious  longing  for  the  llfe-glving  sun,  and  It  was 
in  yearning  toward  Its  point  of  rising  that  the  trees 
betrayed  the  secret.  Here  and  there,  tufts  of  shrub- 
growth  pointed  through  the  snow  in  one  direction. 
That,  he  knew,  should  be  south,  and  yet  he  must 
prove  it.  With  his  snowshoes,  he  dug  busily  at  the 
base  of  a  tree  until  he  found  the  roots  running  into 
the  iron  ground.  Circling  the  trunk,  he  at  last  found 
the  growth  of  moss  he  was  hunting.  He  compared 
it  with  the  pointing  tufts  of  shrub-growth,  and  found 
that  his  theory  had  been  proven.  For  moss  only 
grows  on  the  shady  side  of  trees,  and  in  the  far 
northland  this  is  the  north  side,  the  sun  rising  almost 
directly  in  the  south,  except  during  the  summer 
months. 

With  the  north  to  the  left,  McTavish  passed  his 
pack-strap  about  his  forehead,  and  started  on  the 
weary  march.  He  knew  that  somewhere  before  him 
was  Beaver  Lake,  and  he  remembered  that  there 
were  two  or  three  trappers  along  its  shores.  Just 
where  they  were,  he  could  not  specify,  for  his  private 
map  had  been  taken  from  him  at  the  time  his  pack 
was  made  up.  If  they  were  loyal  to  the  Company, 
he  had  a  bare  chance  of  reaching  them;  if,  as  he 
supposed,  they  belonged  to  the  brotherhood  —  He 
did  not  finish  out  the  thought.  He  was  certain  they 
were  not  loyal,  else  his  exile  would  have  been  south 
instead  of  north. 


56  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

As  he  toiled  along,  foxes  whisked  from  his  path, 
their  splendid  brushes  held  straight  behind  them; 
snow-bunting  and  chattering  whiskey-jacks  scattered 
at  his  approach.  Clever  rabbits,  their  long  ears  laid 
flat,  a  dull  gleam  in  their  half-opened  eyes,  Imper- 
sonated snow-covered  stumps  under  a  thicket  of 
bristling  shrubs. 

With  every  hour,  Donald  thanked  Providence 
that  he  had  not  heard  the  howl  of  a  traveling  wolf- 
pack,  for  a  man  well  armed  Is  no  match  for  these 
ham-stringing  villains  once  they  catch  him  away  from 
his  fire,  and  a  man  with  only  two  knives  has  his 
choice  of  starvation  in  a  tree,  or  quick  death  under 
the  gleaming  fangs. 

A  little  after  noon,  the  wanderer  reached  a  ravine, 
and  stopped  to  make  tea  in  its  shelter.  Above  him, 
and  leaning  out  at  a  precarious  angle,  a  pine-tree, 
heavily  coated  with  snow,  seemed  about  to  plunge 
downward  from  the  weight  of  its  white  burden. 
Taking  care  to  avoid  the  space  beneath  It,  the  man 
built  his  little  fire,  and  boiled  snow-water.  He  ate 
nothing  now,  having  reduced  his  food  to  a  living 
ration  morning  and  evening.  Having  drunk  the 
steaming  stuff,  he  was  about  to  return  the  tin  aip  to 
the  pack  when  a  rustling,  sliding  sound  aroused  him. 
He  turned  In  time  to  see  a  great  mass  of  snow  from 
a  tree  higher  up  fall  full  upon  the  overloaded  head 
of  the  protruding  pine.  The  latter  quivered  for  a 
moment  under  the  Impact,  and  then,  with  a  loud 
snapping  of  branches  and  muffled  tearing  of  roots, 


THE  LAST  STAND  57 

fell  crashing  to  the  crusted  snow  beneath,  leaving 
a  gaping  wound  In  the  earth. 

McTavIsh  looked  with  Interest.  Then,  his  jaw 
dropped,  and  his  eyes  widened  In  terror,  for,  burst- 
ing out  of  the  hole,  frothing  with  rage,  came  a  huge 
bear,  whose  long  winter  nap  had  been  thus  rudely 
disturbed. 

For  an  instant,  blinded  by  the  glare  of  the  gray 
day,  the  creature  stopped,  rising  on  Its  hind  legs 
and  snarling  fearfully.  Donald,  petrified  with  sur- 
prise, stood  as  though  rooted  to  the  ground.  A 
moment  later,  the  bear  saw  the  man,  and,  without 
pause,  started  for  him. 

From  an  Infuriated  bear,  there  Is  but  one  means 
of  escape  —  speed.  In  a  flash,  McTavIsh  knew  that 
he  could  outstrip  the  clumsy  animal,  for  the  latter 
would  constantly  break  through  the  thin  crust  of  the 
snow.  But,  In  the  same  flash,  he  realized  what 
escape  would  mean.  His  pack  lay  open.  The  hun- 
gry animal  would  rifle  It  completely,  gulp  down  the 
priceless  fat  meat,  and  strew  the  rest  of  the  pro- 
visions about.  Then,  the  bear  would  go  back  to 
bed;  the  man  would  starve,  and  freeze  to  death  in 
two  or  three  days. 

No !     Running  was  out  of  the  question. 

Donald's  doom  had  suddenly  crystallized  into  a 
matter  of  minutes.  To  think  with  him  was  to  act. 
Instantly,  he  drew  his  two  knives,  the  long,  keen 
hunter's  blade  In  his  right  hand,  the  other  In  his  left. 

And,  now,  the  bear  was  but  twenty  feet  away, 


58  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

and  coming  on  all-fours,  its  eyes  gleaming  wickedly, 
its  mouth  slavering.  At  ten  feet,  it  suddenly  rose  on 
Its  hind  legs,  and  then  McTavish  acted.  With  two 
swift,  sliding  steps  forward  on  his  snowshoes,  his 
face  was  buried  in  the  coarse  fur  of  the  anlmaPs 
chest  before  the  creature  had  fathomed  the  move- 
ment. 

Then,  the  knives  played  wickedly.  The  long  one 
in  the  right  hand  shot  to  the  hilt  in  the  heart;  the 
one  In  the  left  went  deep  into  the  throat,  and  Mc- 
Tavish slipped  downward  before  the  great  clasp  — 
which  would  have  broken  his  back  —  could  close 
upon  him.  .  .  .  Turning,  he  ran  as  he  had  never 
run  before. 

But  there  was  little  need.  The  bear,  stricken  in 
two  vital  spots,  coughed  hoarsely  once  or  twice, 
spraying  the  clean  snow  scarlet,  and  dropped  on  all- 
fours.  There,  It  swayed  a  moment,  suddenly  turned 
round  and  round  swiftly,  and  fell  motionless. 

The  victor  approached  cautiously.  The  animal 
was  dead.  The  man  withdrew  his  two  knives,  and, 
with  all  haste,  skinned  the  animal  in  part,  for  now 
another  danger  presented  itself.  Although  he  had 
pushed  starvation  several  days  away,  yet  the  smell 
of  the  kill  would  draw  the  wild  folk,  particularly 
the  wolves.  Quickly,  he  cut  what  he  could  safely 
carry  of  the  choicest  meat,  and  bestowed  it  in  the 
pack,  taking  every  precaution  that  no  blood  should 
drip  along  his  trail.  Then,  he  slipped  the  strap  Into 
place  across  his  forehead,  and  sped  eastward.  .  .  . 
And  now,  instead  of  the  dread  companions  —  fear 


THE  LAST  STAND  59 

and  starvation  —  that  had  dogged  his  footsteps,  he 
ran  hand  in  hand  with  hope. 

Morning  brought  him  out  of  the  forest  to  the 
open  prairie,  fortunately  a  fairly  level  tract  of  land. 
This  meant  fast  going,  and  McTavIsh,  stronger  than 
he  had  been  for  many  hours  past,  on  account  of  a 
hearty  meal  of  bear  meat,  swung  off  across  the  crust 
at  a  kind  of  loping  run.  He  did  not  walk  now,  but 
went  forward  on  long,  sliding  strokes  that  would 
have  kept  a  dog  at  a  fast  trot.  Far,  far  In  the  dis- 
tance, he  saw  the  friendly  shelter  of  woods,  and,  with 
eyes  on  the  hard  snow-crust  beneath  him,  laid  a  course 
thither.  Here  on  the  prairie,  the  crust  was  the  result 
of  the  soft  Chinook  west  winds  that  came  across  the 
ranges,  and  melted  the  snow  swiftly  —  only  to  let 
it  freeze  again  Into  a  sheathing  of  armor-plate. 

To-day,  the  sun  rose  clear  In  a  brilliant  sky,  and 
threw  Its  oblique  rays  across  the  glaring  snow-fields, 
so  that  they  appeared  to  be  of  burnished  glass.  After 
awhile,  Donald  Imagined  that  the  colors  of  the  rain- 
bow were  being  mysteriously  hurled  down  from 
heaven,  for  everywhere  he  looked  he  saw  purple 
and  green  and  yellow  patches  dancing  against  the 
white.  He  tried  to  follow  them  with  his  eyes,  but 
they  kept  just  to  the  right  or  the  left  of  vision,  so 
that  he  never  got  a  fair  look  at  them.  Somehow, 
too,  they  blinded  him,  and  presently  he  drew  the 
hood  over  his  face  to  shut  out  at  least  a  part  of  the 
glare.  But,  since  he  was  traveling  fast,  he  soon  be- 
came almost  suffocated  under  the  heavy  envelope, 
and  for  relief  was  forced  to  throw  aside  the  capote, 


6o  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

and  again  expose  himself  to  the  blistering  sunlight. 
.  .  .  At  noon,  he  could  only  just  make  out  a  very 
dim  line  In  the  distance,  which  told  him  where  were 
the  coveted  trees  of  the  forest.  Although  he  was 
many  miles  nearer  to  them  than  he  had  been  at  dawn, 
they  seemed  farther  away.  The  fact  taught  him 
beyond  pcradventure  of  doubt  that  something  was 
wrong.  Under  a  new  urge  of  fear,  he  pressed  for- 
ward without  a  moment  of  delay,  save  once  for  a  tin 
cupful  of  tea.  He  realized  the  vital  necessity  of 
reaching  the  fringe  of  the  wood  by  nightfall.  Else, 
he  would  be  exposed  to  the  dangers  of  darkness  on 
the  open  plains,  without  protection  of  any  sort.  The 
thought  goaded  him  to  desperate  speed. 

Now,  black  and  purple  and  red  patches  joined  the 
green  and  yellow  and  blue  that  had  seared  his  eye- 
balls in  the  morning.  Once,  In  making  a  careful 
detour  around  what  he  had  thought  to  be  a  large 
bowlder,  he  was  surprised  to  discover  that,  after 
all,  It  was  only  a  small  fragment  of  stone,  over 
which  he  could  very  easily  have  stepped.  Again,  it 
was  borne  in  on  his  consciousness  that  something  was 
very  wrong  with  him  —  seriously  so  I 

By-and-by,  the  snow-drifts  began  to  heave  and  run, 
like  waves  In  a  choppy  sea,  and  Donald  found  him- 
self staggering  at  every  stride.  Finally,  to  avoid 
falling,  he  was  compelled  to  shut  his  eyes,  for  each 
glint  from  the  snow  was  like  the  stab  of  a  dagger 
through  his  brain.  .  .  .  He  was  snow-blind. 

Yet,  he  must  reach  the  wood.  Within  its  shelter 
lay  his  sole  hope  of  safety.    So,  he  lurched  forward 


THE  LAST  STAND  6i 

with  frenzied  haste.  The  sun  was  sinking  low  to 
the  horizon  now.  He  knew,  though  he  stumbled  on 
with  closed  eyelids,  for  he  could  feel  the  rays  on  his 
cheek,  which  served  him  for  compass  to  guide  his 
steps  toward  the  east.  In  such  evil  plight,  with 
fatigue  racking  his  body  and  anxiety  rending  his 
soul,  he  struggled  toward  his  goal.  Always,  the  pain 
in  his  eyes  was  a  torture.  Through  it  all,  he  kept 
listening  eagerly  for  the  sough  of  wind  among 
branches.  .  .  .  For  the  time,  he  had  forgotten  that 
those  branches  were  muted  by  their  covering  of 
snow. 

Without  any  warning,  Donald  bumped  full  into  a 
tree.  The  force  of  the  impact  on  his  weakened  frame 
was  such  that  he  fell  floundering  on  the  snow.  But, 
in  an  instant,  he  was  up  again,  new  hope  surging  in 
his  breast,  for,  now,  he  knew  that  he  had  indeed 
reached  the  edge  of  the  forest.  Using  the  sense  of 
touch  to  save  him  from  other  collisions,  he  proceeded 
cautiously  among  the  trees  for  a  half-mile  or  more, 
and  then,  at  last,  pitched  his  pitiful  camp.  Sightless, 
he  managed  somehow,  albeit  very  clumsily,  to  hack 
some  fragments  of  bark  from  the  bole  of  the  tree 
beneath  which  he  had  come  to  a  halt,  and  with  these 
he  made  a  fire,  and  heated  the  snow-water  for  his 
tea.  When  he  had  completed  his  scanty  meal,  he 
made  a  poultice  for  his  eyes  from  the  tea-leaves, 
and  bound  it  In  place.  Then,  swathed  in  his  blankets, 
he  endured  as  best  he  might  a  night  of  anguish.  No 
sleep  came  to  his  assuaging.  His  brain  was  a  chaos 
in  which  countless  suns  and  planets  swirled  madly, 


62  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

rushing  to  countless  explosions  of  torment.  In  those 
hours,  he  suffered  an  eternity,  for  back  of  material 
agony  was  a  spirit's  despair. 

In  a  momentary  lull  of  pain,  Donald  became  aware 
that  the  sun  was  again  risen  after  the  ages  of  night, 
for  he  felt  on  the  back  of  his  hand,  which  he  experi- 
mentally exposed,  the  hot-and-cold  mottling  from 
the  rays.  The  renewed  opportunity  for  action  after 
the  passive  misery  of  the  night  heartened  him  for  a 
brief  interval,  and  he  bestirred  himself  eagerly  with 
preparations  for  the  day.  First  of  all,  he  must  have 
chips  of  bark  for  a  fire,  in  order  to  make  ready  his 
breakfast.  He  had  already,  the  night  before,  ex- 
hausted the  supply  within  reach  on  the  tree  at  hand, 
so  another  source  of  supply  must  be  sought.  Forth- 
with, on  hands  and  knees,  with  bared  knife  In  his 
clutch,  he  crawled  blindly  until  he  found  another 
tree.  Circling  about  it,  with  swift  strokes  of  the 
knife,  he  quickly  had  an  ample  store  of  fuel  for  his 
need.     Gathering  this  up,  he  started  back.  .  .  . 

Walking  forward  falteringly,  with  the  little  load 
of  bark  held  to  his  breast,  Donald  realized  in  a  shock 
of  alarm  that  he  must  have  passed  beyond  the  tree 
at  the  foot  of  which  his  pack  was  lying.  In  panic 
anxiety,  he  forced  his  lids  apart,  and  strove  to  com- 
pel sight.  It  was  In  vain.  A  prismatic  blur  reeled 
before  him.  He  could  not  distinguish  sky  from 
snow,  or  sun  from  tree.  Only,  the  pain  suddenly 
leaped  with  new  life  and  flooded  the  useless  eyeballs 
with  stinging  tears.  The  futility  of  his  effort  sick- 
ened the  man.    But,  by  a  mighty  exercise  of  will,  he 


THE  LAST  STAND  '63 

thrust  down  his  emotion,  and  set  himself  doggedly 
to  the  task  of  finding  a  way  back.  To  this  end,  he 
knelt  down,  and  felt  the  smooth  surface  of  the  snow 
with  bare  fingers  for  some  trace  of  his  footsteps. 
There  was  none.  The  firm  crust  had  carried  him 
without  strain.  There  was  no  least  abrasion  of  the 
frozen  surface  to  afford  him  a  clew  to  his  own  trail. 
He  strove  to  reason  concerning  the  direction  of  his 
movements,  but  quickly  abandoned  the  attempt  as 
altogether  baffling.  In  his  circling  about  the  tree 
from  which  he  had  garnered  fuel,  he  had  neglected 
to  hold  his  bearings  in  relation  to  the  camp.  In  set- 
ting off  on  his  return,  he  might  have  moved  in  any 
one  of  the  three  hundred  and  sixty  degrees  of  the 
circle.  For  that  matter,  he  could  not  now  even  find 
his  way  back  to  the  tree  from  which  he  had  got  the 
chips.  Despite  his  brave  resolve,  the  afflicted  man 
found  himself  powerless  then  to  devise  any  scheme 
of  action  to  be  pursued.  In  this  inability,  he  left 
himself  exposed  to  utter  despair,  and,  for  the  first 
time  in  all  his  grisly  journey,  such  despair  took  him 
for  its  own.  Like  a  monster  that  had  been  hungrily 
awaiting  its  opportunity  with  growing  fierceness,  it 
now  clutched  him  by  the  throat,  shook  him,  held 
him  helpless  in  a  gigantic  terror.  Where  could  he 
go?  What  could  he  do?  How  could  he  find  — 
anything — ever?  .  .  .  His  teeth  were  chattering 
—  not  from  the  cold. 

And,  now,  since  hope  was  fled  at  last,  a  prophecy 
of  the  end  voiced  itself  In  the  pangs  of  hunger,  which 
bit  like  poison  within  him.     The  demon  of  starva- 


64  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

tlon  leaped  upon  him,  gloating,  gluttonous  of  the 
end. 

Yet,  after  an  interval  of  infinite  wretchedness, 
Donald  recalled  his  vigors,  and  shook  off  the  leth- 
argy that  had  bound  his  spirit.  Once  again,  he 
rallied  the  strength  of  his  manhood,  and  set  his  will 
to  the  hopeless  strife.  Blind,  starving,  he  still  gave 
battle  to  the  North. 

So,  after  a  weary  while,  the  shuddering  panic  left 
him,  and  he  set  to  work  with  renewed  calm.  Follow- 
ing the  single  method  that  offered  any  possibility  of 
success  in  his  quest  for  the  camp,  he  spent  exhausting 
hours  in  plodding  hither  and  yon  through  the  mazes 
of  the  wood,  guiding  his  courses  in  what  he  vainly 
believed  to  be  concentric  circles,  endeavoring  by  this 
means  to  come  on  the  tree  under  which  he  had 
left  his  pack,  through  a  process  of  elimination. 
Smaller  and  smaller  the  circle  grew,  until  in  the  end, 
he  found  himself  turning  about  on  one  spot  in  the 
snow.  Despite  this  initial  failure,  he  repeated  the 
maneuver  bravely,  only  to  have  his  toil  culminate 
in  a  second  failure.  A  third  effort  was  equally  futile. 
Worn  by  hunger  and  fatigue,  and  by  the  racking 
emotions  of  the  situation,  his  spirit  weakened  again, 
so  that  he  sat  on  his  haunches  in  a  huddled  posture 
of  wo,  and  sobbed  like  a  child  in  desperation  and 
self-pity. 

Still,  though  fearfully  bruised  by  the  blows  of  fate, 
the  spirit  of  the  man  was  not  broken.  Into  his  con- 
sciousness, presently,  came  the  realization  that  he 


THE  LAST  STAND  65 

must  not  waste  another  instant  of  time  in  trying  to 
find  the  pack.  To  stay  where  he  was  until  the  blind- 
ness should  leave  him  would  be  to  court  death  by 
starvation;  to  go  on  would  offer  at  least  the  remote 
possibility  of  encountering  some  wandering  trapper 
—  though  the  probability  would  be  of  a  swifter  end- 
ing from  the  wolves.  But  the  unvarying  rule  of  the 
trapper  is  to  go  forward  —  always  forward,  what- 
ever be  the  cost.  That  rule  was  in  Donald's  mind 
now,  and  it  spurred  him  to  vehement  obedience. 
.  .  .  Forward  —  always  forward !  With  the  awk- 
ward movements  of  the  newly  blind,  he  got  slowly  to 
his  feet,  and  went  shambling  onward. 

And,  now,  the  mood  of  abject  depression  in  the 
face  of  catastrophe  was  thrust  out,  never  to  return, 
whatever  the  issue.  Fear  was  swallowed  up  by  fierce 
effort  and  fiercer  resolve.  All  the  strength  of  will  in 
the  man  was  concentrated  in  an  iron  determination 
that  was  steadfast,  unflinching,  as  hour  followed 
hour  in  the  sickening  toil  of  a  vague  progress.  The 
blood  of  his  ancestors  was  at  work  in  Donald,  driv- 
ing him  on  remorselessly.  Even  more  than  that,  the 
strong  man's  instinctive  love  of  life,  the  gut-string 
tenacity  that  makes  him  fight  off  death  until  the  last 
horrible  second,  welled  high  in  his  heart,  surged 
wildly  in  his  blood,  compelling  him  on  and  on  — 
ever  on ! 

The  afflicted  man  needed  such  scourging  of  im- 
pulse. And  the  scourging  might  well  have  failed, 
had  he  known  all  the  ghastly  truth  as  to  how  sorely 
he  was  beset.    Had  sight  been  granted  to  him  again 


ee  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

for  a  minute,  he  might  have  turned  readily  to  the 
expedient  suggested  by  the  half-breed,  which  he  had 
rejected  so  firmly  —  might  have  drawn  the  keen 
blade  of  the  knife  across  his  own  throat.  .  .  .  For, 
stealthily  picking  their  way  along  the  back  trail 
toward  Lake  Sturgeon,  two  Indians  went  swiftly, 
and  they  bore  with  them,  divided  equally  between 
them,  the  contents  of  the  lost  man's  pack.  From  the 
moment  of  Donald's  setting  forth,  these  two  had 
followed  him,  in  order  to  make  certain  of  his  death. 
Last  night,  they  had  ventured  to  camp  close  to  him, 
since  to  their  eyes  of  experience  it  was  made  plain 
by  his  actions  that  he  was  blind.  In  the  morning, 
when  he  lost  his  way,  they  had  stolen  his  belong- 
ings, thereby  to  insure  the  end.  Then,  wearied  of 
their  long  vigil,  they  took  the  homeward  trail  with 
glad  hearts.  They  knew  beyond  any  shadow  of  ques- 
tioning that  death  to  the  wanderer  could  be  only  a 
matter  of  a  few  hours  now.  They  could  safely  report 
to  the  council  of  the  brotherhood  that  the  condemned 
had  followed  Death  Trail  to  its  end. 

Mercifully,  Donald  guessed  nothing  of  all  this. 
So,  he  held  to  his  slow  course  eastward  with  a  stolidly 
patient  courage  against  every  obstacle.  Very  often, 
he  verified  his  direction  by  feeling  the  shoots  of  the 
shrubbery,  or  by  the  more  laborious  digging  to  the 
moss  that  grew  at  the  foot  of  the  tree-trunks.  Al- 
ways, the  cold  assaulted  him,  and  as  time  passed  and 
hunger  waxed,  its  attacks  were  more  difficult  to  resist. 
The  draining  of  his  energies  left  him  unprotected 
against  the  piercing  chill  of  the  air.    Frequently,  he 


THE  LAST  STAND  67 

was  forced  to  halt,  In  order  that  he  might  gather 
chips  for  a  fire,  and  then  crouch,  shivering  over  the 
blaze  for  a  time  ere  he  dared  resume  his  march. 
Indeed,  as  the  night  drew  down  on  him,  he  felt  him- 
self so  enfeebled,  so  sensitive  to  the  Icy  wind,  that 
he  feared  to  sleep,  lest  he  might  never  wake.  So, 
for  his  life's  sake,  he  kept  moving,  now  by  sheer 
stress  of  will-power  lashing  the  spent  muscles  to 
movement.  From  time  to  time,  with  ever  shorten- 
ing Intervals,  he  stopped  to  make  a  little  fire,  over 
which  he  huddled  drowsily,  but  with  his  will  set  firm 
against  a  rnoment's  yielding  to  that  longing  for  a 
sleep  which,  of  necessity,  must  merge  into  one  from 
which  there  could  be  no  awakening.  ...  In  such 
manful  wise,  Donald  battled  with  death  through  the 
dragging  hours. 

When  he  felt  the  coming  of  the  sun  next  morning, 
the  follower  of  the  Death  Trail  was  minded  to  count 
his  remaining  store  of  matches.  There  were  just  a 
score  of  them.  It  seemed,  then,  that,  after  all,  the 
end  would  come  not  from  starvation,  but  from  freez- 
ing, for  against  the  deadly  cold  he  could  summon  his 
ally  of  fire  only  twenty  times,  and  without  that  ally 
his  surrender  must  be  swift.  Therefore,  as  he  went 
forward  now,  he  endured  the  sufferings  Inflicted  by 
the  Icy  blasts  to  new  limits,  jealously  hoarding  his 
meager  supply  of  matches  —  which  had  come  to  be 
his  milestones  as  he  drew  near  the  end  of  Death 
Trail.  .  .  .  Donald  gave  over  the  reckoning  of 
time  then.  He  recked  nought  of  minutes  or  hours, 
nought  of  day  or  of  night.     Subconsciously,  he  still 


68  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

paused  often  to  make  sure  that  the  east  lay  straight 
before  him;  but  the  activities  of  his  mind  now  were 
become  focused  on  the  ceaseless  counting  of  the 
matches  that  measured  his  span  of  life.  And,  as  one 
after  another  served  his  need  of  warmth  in  the  kin- 
dling of  a  fire,  so  his  high  courage  dwindled  steadily, 
until,  when  but  a  single  splinter  of  the  precious  wood 
was  left  him,  he  gave  over  the  last  pretense  of 
bravery,  and  shook  cowardly  in  the  clutch  of  fear. 
He  continued  a  staggering  advance  for  a  long  time, 
but  hope  was  fled.  The  desire  for  food  was  not  so 
mordant  now.  In  its  stead,  a  raging  thirst  tortured 
tongue  and  throat.  He  resisted  a  frantic  craving  to 
devour  the  snow,  since  he  knew  well  that  this  would 
but  multiply  his  torments.  Yet,  fatigue  and  thirst 
and  even  the  stabbing  cold,  which  would  at  last  be 
his  executioner,  were  not  the  things  that  swayed  his 
emotions  in  these  final  stages  of  the  Death  Trail. 
Somehow,  the  matches  had  come  to  be  his  obsession. 
His  physical  agony  was  felt  through  a  blessed  me- 
dium of  apathy  now;  it  was  become  something  cu- 
riously remote,  almost  impersonal.  Always,  his  con- 
sciousness was  filled  with  a  morbid  counting  of  the 
matches,  the  measure  of  his  life.  So,  when  there 
was  only  the  one,  he  felt  that  the  end  was,  indeed, 
come  upon  him.  He  strove  his  mightiest,  but  his 
might  was  shrunken  to  a  puny  sham.  He  struggled 
forward  valiantly,  but  his  advance  was  like  the  prog- 
ress of  a  snail.  Then,  suddenly,  another  step  became 
an  infinite  labor  —  something  of  which  he  could  not 
even  think.    He  lurched  forward,  and  fell  againsf  a 


THE  LAST  STAND  69 

tree-trunk.  The  concussion  aroused  him  to  a  clearer 
understanding.  Very  slowly,  with  a  dreadful  clumsi- 
ness of  movement,  he  hacked  off  fragments  of  the 
bark  within  his  reach,  piled  them  in  readiness,  struck 
the  match,  and  set  it  to  the  loose  fibers.  It  never 
occurred  to  him  that  this  last  match  might  fail.  And 
It  did  not.  Its  tiny  flame  grew  in  seconds  to  a  cheery, 
crackling  blaze.  Donald,  on  his  knees,  with  hands 
outspread  like  a  worshiper  in  adoration  before  his 
god  —  as  in  truth  he  was ! —  felt  the  penetrant  vibra- 
tions of  the  fire  with  an  inexpressible  languor  of  bliss. 
This  was  the  last  match  —  the  end !  But  what  mat- 
ter? The  lethargy  of  utter  exhaustion  dulled  famil- 
iar suffering.  The  obsession  of  the  match  still  held 
its  mastery,  and  Its  expression  was  the  hot  flame  that 
breathed  on  him.  Donald  had  no  thought  of  death 
now,  though  vaguely  he  knew  that  he  was  prone  at 
the  feet  of  death.  It  mattered  not.  Nothing  mat- 
tered any  more  —  nothing  save  this  luxury  of 
warmth  that  was  shed  upon  him  from  the  last  match; 
this  luxury  of  warmth,  and  that  other  luxury  of 
sleep,  which  stole  upon  him  now  so  softly,  so 
caressingly. 


CHAPTER  VII 

JEAN  PUTS  IT  UP  TO  HER  FATHER 

JEAN  FITZPATRICK  rose  from  the  breakfast- 
^  table  at  Fort  Severn,  and  asked  for  the  Winni- 
peg papers.  Three  days  before,  the  mail-carrier 
had  dashed  in  with  dogs  on  the  gallop,  and  ever 
since  the  white  folk  at  the  fort  had  been  having 
a  riot  of  joy.  Months-old  letters  from  almost  for- 
gotten friends,  and  papers  many  weeks  behind  their 
dates  had  been  perused  over  and  over  again,  until 
they  could  almost  be  recited  from  memory. 

Tongues  wagged  in  gossip  over  personages  per- 
haps dead  by  this  time,  and  sage  opinions  settled 
questions  that  had  long  since  passed  from  the  minds 
of  men  in  the  glamourous  cities  of  far-off  civiliza- 
tion. 

Jean  passed  from  the  dining-room  into  the  draw- 
ing-room, where  many  days  before  she  had  sent  Don- 
ald McTavish  from  her  presence.  Her  father,  who 
had  eaten  earlier,  had  retired  into  his  private  study, 
pleading  business  matters  of  urgency,  and  the  girl 
settled  herself  luxuriously  near  a  square,  snow-edged 
window,  with  a  pile  of  newspapers  beside  her  easy 
chair. 

She  had  not  been  reading  long  when  voices  raised 

70 


UP  TO  FATHER  71 

in  argument  at  the  front  door  distracted  her  atten- 
tion. 

"  No,"  the  servant  of  the  house  was  saying,  "  you 
can't  see  the  factor.  He  has  given  orders  that  he 
cannot  be  disturbed." 

"  But  I  must  see  him  I  "  replied  a  croaking  voice, 
using  the  Ojibway  dialect.  "  I  have  come  many 
miles  to  see  him,  and  must  go  away  to-day." 

"Who  are  you?  "  asked  Butts,  the  British  butler, 
who  served  the  factor's  table  with  all  the  ceremony 
to  be  found  in  an  English  manor. 

"  Maria." 

"Maria  who?" 

"  Just  Maria.     I  don't  need  any  other  name." 

"  Tell  me  your  message,  and  I'll  give  it  to  him. 
Then,  you  can  come  around  later  in  the  day  for  your 
answer." 

"  No,  I  can't  do  that.  This  is  something  I  must 
say  to  him  myself,  and  in  private,"  croaked  the  voice. 

"  Well,  you  can't  see  him,  and  that's  all  there  is 
about  it,"  snapped  Butts  with  finality,  and  he 
slammed  the  door  full  in  the  old  Indian  woman's 
face. 

At  that,  Jean  sprang  up  and  hurried  from  the 
drawing-room  into  the  hallway,  her  eyes  flashing 
with  resentment. 

"  Here,  Butts,"  she  said  sharply,  "  call  that 
woman  back,  and  bring  her  to  me  in  the  sitting-room. 
I  will  hear  what  she  has  to  say,  if  she  will  tell  me.'^ 

"  Yes,  miss,"  and  the  butler,  showing  vast  disap- 
proval in  his  tone,  opened  the  door. 


72  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

A  minute  later,  Jean  looked  up  to  see  a  bent, 
wizened  old  hag  standing  in  the  doorway,  bobbing 
respectfully. 

"  Come  in  close  to  the  fire.  You  must  be  cold," 
suggested  the  girl  kindly,  noting  the  pinched  brown 
features.     "  Then  I  will  talk  to  you." 

A  leer  of  thanks  and  gratitude  spread  over  the 
ugly,  wrinkled  face,  and  the  creature  acted  on  the 
suggestion. 

"  Can't  you  wait  to  see  my  father  until  later?" 
asked  Jean. 

"  No,  I  go  with  my  son  to  the  hunting-grounds 
this  afternoon,"  the  woman  answered. 

"  Well,  If  you  will  tell  your  message  to  me,  I  will 
see  that  he  gets  it." 

The  squaw  made  no  reply,  but  searched  Jean's 
face  with  her  bright  little  eyes.  Then,  she  said 
suddenly: 

"  So,  you're  the  one  he  is  in  love  with?  "  The 
girl,  taken  aback,  bristled  at  the  words  and  tone. 

"  To  whom  do  you  refer?  "  she  asked. 

"  Captain  McTavish.  Ha,  you  start  and  blush  1 
Then,  there  are  two  sides  of  the  matter.  It's  a 
pity!     It's  a  pity!  "  .  ^ 

Jean,  now  thoroughly  angered,  both  by  the 
woman's  temerity  and  her  own  involuntary  coloring 
at  the  mention  of  Donald  McTavish's  name,  turned 
on  her  visitor  sharply. 

"  You  will  kindly  keep  to  the  matter  that  brought 
you  here,  Maria,"  she  said,  "  andjeave  both  myself 
and  Captain  McTavish  out  of  it." 


UP  TO  FATHER  73 

"  I  can  leave  you  out  of  It,  but  not  McTavish," 
was  the  stolid  reply. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  Ha,  ha  I  That's  It.  What  do  I  mean?  Some- 
times I  hardly  know  myself,  but  at  others  It  comes 
back  to  me  clearly  enough.  But  I  warn  you,  pretty 
miss,"  and  the  squaw  suddenly  pointed  a  shaking  fin- 
ger at  the  girl.  "  Never  marry  him,  this  McTav- 
ish.     Never  marry  him !  " 

"  I  haven't  the  slightest  Intention  of  doing  so," 
returned  the  girl  coldly;  "but  I  would  like  to  know 
why  you  say  what  you  do,  and  why  you  wanted  to 
see  my  father  and  tell  him  all  this  nonsense." 

"  Nonsense,  you  say  I  "  The  old  woman  chuckled. 
"  No,  it  ain't  nonsense.  Your  father  knows  some- 
thing already,  but  probably  he  won't  tell  you;  such 
things  aren't  for  the  ears  of  young  girls,  particularly 
when  they  blush  and  grow  angry  at  the  mention  of  a 
man.  But  he'll  marry  you  If  he  can,  stain  or  no 
stain.     That's  a  man's  way." 

Jean  Fitzpatrlck's  hands  wandered  to  her  throat 
as  though  to  ease  her  dress.  Her  eyes  were  wide 
with  wonder  and  her  fear  of  something  half-hinted, 
and  the  color  had  gone  out  of  her  face.  Here  they 
were  again,  these  rumors  that  had  disturbed  her 
mind  from  time  to  time.  But,  now,  they  were  al- 
most definite  —  and  they  were  not  pleasant ! 

And  her  father  knew!  She  had  suspected  the 
fact,  and  yet  he  had  not  told  her  anything,  even 
denying  his  knowledge  when  forced  to  the  point. 

What  was  it,  this  thing  that  was  the  prized  prop- 


,74  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

erty  of  a  glittering-eyed  Indian  hag?  She  dared 
hear  no  more  from  the  crafty,  insinuating  creature. 
She  would  go  to  her  father  himself,  and  find  out. 
She  turned  to  the  old  woman,  who  was  watching 
her  closely. 

"  Maria,"  she  said,  "  I  will  do  what  I  can  to  have 
my  father  see  you  before  you  leave  this  afternoon. 
If  he  will  not,  then  you  may  know  that  everything 
possible  has  been  done.  If  he  will  see  you,  I'll  send 
a  boy  to  find  you." 

The  squaw  knew  enough  of  white  etiquette  to 
realize  that  this  was  a  dismissal,  and  started  toward 
the  door. 

"He  knows,  he  knows!"  she  croaked.  "Tell 
him  this  time  that  there  is  money  in  it,  and,  if  he 
won't  see  me  now.  Til  be  back  in  the  spring." 

She  went  out,  leaving  Jean  bewildered  and  spent 
with  emotion,  trying  to  collect  her  scattered  thoughts. 
Knowing  that  her  father  was  busy,  she  returned  to 
the  papers,  and  tried  to  read.  But  the  words  passed 
in  front  of  her  eyes  without  meaning,  and,  after 
fifteen  minutes  of  this,  she  rose  determinedly. 

The  knock  on  her  father's  study  door  elicited  a 
growl  of  inquiry,  and  she  went  in  without  answer- 
ing. Old  Angus  FItzpatrick  sat  bent  over  his  desk 
writing,  his  white  beard  sweeping  the  polished  wood. 
He  wore  large  horn  spectacles. 

"  Father,"  began  the  girl,  coming  straight  to  the 
point,  "  do  you  know  an  old  Ojibway  squaw  by  the 
name  of  Maria?  " 

Neither  the  bulk  of  the  man  nor  his  stolidity  could 


UP  TO  FATHER  75 

hide  the  involuntary  start  the  words  gave  him.  He 
looked  searchlngly  at  his  daughter  from  beneath  his 
beetling  brows. 

"  Yes,  I  have  seen  her,  I  think,"  he  replied  cau- 
tiously after  a  moment.     "  Why?  " 

"  She  came  here  to-day,  and  insisted,  almost  vio- 
lently, on  seeing  you.  Butts  was  about  to  send  her 
away  when  I  interfered  and  talked  to  her  myself. 
I  don't  like  her;  she  frightens  me." 

"  You  talked  with  her?  "  asked  the  factor  hastily, 
his  agitation  undisguised  this  time. 

"  Yes,  but  I  couldn't  learn  anything  definite.  She 
has  a  lot  of  nasty  rumors  in  her  head.  Maybe 
they're  facts,  but  she  only  spoke  in  hints.  She  said 
the  facts  she  would  tell  only  to  you." 

Angus  FItzpatrick  heaved  an  inaudible  sigh  of  re- 
lief.    The  old  squaw,  then,  had  been  discreet. 

"  What  was  the  subject  of  her  conversation?  "  he 
asked,  sharply. 

The  girl  hesitated  and  flushed. 

"  Horrid  hints  regarding  Don  —  Captain  Mc- 
Tavish,"  she  said,  finally.  Then,  her  indignation 
rising  once  more,  she  went  on  swiftly:  "Just  the 
sort  of  thing  I  have  heard  from  you,  from  Tee-ka- 
mee,  from  every  one  who  has  a  right  or  privilege  to 
mention  such  things.  Now,  father,  I  have  come  in 
here  to  find  out  just  what  this  thing  is.  You  can 
tell  me  in  five  minutes,  if  you  will.  Ah,  yes,  you 
can,"  she  insisted,  as  the  factor  started  to  deny. 
"  Yes,  you  can;  old  Maria  said  so,  and  I  believe  her. 
"  After  last  summer  when  he  was  here,  and  I  — 


76  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

when  I  grew  to  be  very  fond  of  his  company,  you 
suddenly  began  putting  things  into  my  mind,  uncer- 
tain hints,  slurring  Intimations,  significant  gestures 
—  all  the  things  that  can  damage  a  character  without 
positively  defaming  It.  Something  had  happened! 
Something  had  come  to  your  notice  that  made  you 
do  all  that.  You  never  liked  Donald,  but  you 
didn't  really  oppose  him  before  that  time.  Now, 
I  want  to  know  what  this  Is."  Her  voice  hardened. 
"I'm  tired  of  being  treated  like  a  schoolgirl;  I'm 
twenty- four,  and  old  enough  to  think  for  myself,  and 
I  demand  to  know  what  mystery  has  forced  a  black 
shadow  between  us." 

She  stopped,  breathless,  the  color  going  and  com- 
ing in  her  cheeks  like  the  ebb  and  flow  of  northern 
lights  in  the  sky. 

Old  Angus  Fitzpatrick,  amazed  at  the  vehemence 
of  his  usually  passive  daughter,  had  risen  to  his  feet. 
To  make  him  furious,  it  was  only  necessary  to  de- 
mand something.  This  the  girl,  in  excellent  imita- 
tion of  his  own  manner,  had  done,  and  he  resented 
it  highly,  glaring  at  her  through  his  spectacles. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  stand  there  and  say  that  you 
demand  that  I  tell  you  something?"  he  roared. 
"  Well,  I  refuse,  that's  all." 

And  he  turned  angrily  away  from  her.  The  girl 
mastered  herself,  and  asked  In  a  cold,  even  voice : 

"Will  you  tell  me  this?  Is  there  anything  def- 
inite against  Donald  McTavIsh?  " 

"  Do  you  demand  to  know?  " 

"  No,  I  ask  it." 


UP  TO  FATHER  77 

"Well,  then,  there  Is.  A  perfectly  good  reason 
why  you  can  never  marry  him." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  I  can't  tell  you.  And,  If  I  can't,  no  one  else  can. 
Respect  him  all  you  will  for  himself,  but  don't  love 
him.  I  tell  you  this  to  spare  you  pain  later.  And, 
if  you  please,  Jean,"  he  added  more  gently  as  his 
temper  went  down,  "  never  let  us  speak  of  this  pain- 
ful subject  again." 

"  Very  well,  father,"  she  replied,  calmly.  "  Oh, 
by  the  way,  do  you  wish  to  see  that  woman?  She 
leaves  this  afternoon." 

"  No,  I  never  want  to  see  her  again.'* 

"  She  said  for  me  to  tell  you  there  was  money 
in  It  this  time,"  added  the  girl,  a  slight  note  of 
contempt  In  her  tone. 

The  factor  hesitated. 

"  No,"  he  said  finally;  and,  without  another  word, 
Jean  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   ALARM 

DARKNESS  had  just  fallen  over  the  snow-en- 
shrouded fort.  Three  hours  ago,  Maria,  with 
her  stoical  Indian  son,  had  pulled  out  behind  a  dog- 
train  with  fresh  supplies.  The  old  squaw  had  been 
balked  in  her  attempt  to  see  the  factor.  Since  she 
had  not  been  sent  for,  she  did  not  dare  try  to  force 
another  entrance. 

Angus  Fitzpatrick  and  his  daughters,  Laura  and 
Jean,  were  having  tea  in  the  drawing-room;  prepara- 
tions were  under  way  for  dinner  in  the  kitchen. 
Outside,  a  couple  of  huskies  got  into  a  fight,  the  bell 
of  the  chapel  rang  for  mid-week  even-song,  a  couple 
of  Indians  called  in  Ojibway  to  each  other  across 
the  snowy  expanse  of  the  courtyard. 

Suddenly,  from  somewhere  out  on  the  frozen  Sev- 
ern, there  came  faint  yells,  followed  by  the  staccato 
of  revolver  and  rifle  shots.  Just  as  suddenly,  all 
the  life  in  the  factory  came  to  a  dead  stop,  as  every- 
one listened  for  more  shots  by  which  to  make  sure  of 
the  direction.  Three  minutes  later,  the  additional 
reports  sounded  sharply. 

With  lightning  speed,  snowshoes  were  strapped 
on,  rifles  and  cartridge-belts  gathered  up,  and,  almost 

78 


THE  ALARM  79 

in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell,  twenty  men  were 
racing  across  the  ice  to  help. 

It  was  the  familiar  winter's  tragedy  near  the  fort 
—  a  man  traveling  fast  and  nearing  his  destination 
at  nightfall.  Perhaps,  he  had  five  miles  to  go  for 
food,  warmth,  light,  and  companionship.  He  took 
the  risk,  and  pressed  on  in  the  dark.  And,  then, 
the  wolf-pack,  that  had  been  dogging  him  over  many 
leagues,  closed  in  for  the  kill,  since  the  lone  man's 
one  security  is  his  fire. 

"  When  will  these  Indians  learn  that  lesson  ?  " 
asked  the  factor  irritably,  sipping  his  tea.  The 
shots  had  reached  his  ears,  and  the  swift  departure 
of  the  rescuers  had  been  heard  from  the  courtyard. 

It  was,  perhaps,  an  hour  later  when  a  tramping 
of  feet  and  chorus  of  voices  announced  the  return 
of  the  men.  As  there  was  no  sad  procession,  it  was 
evident  that  the  trapper  had  been  saved.  Presently, 
Butts  entered  the  lamplit  room. 

"  The  trapper  they  just  rescued  is  asking  to  see 
you,  sir,"  he  said.  *'  Claims  his  message  to  be  most 
important,  sir,  'e  does." 

"Life  and  death?" 

"  Might  as  well  say  so,  sir,  from  the  way  he 
carries  on." 

"  Show  him  in." 

Five  minutes  later,  Cardepie,  the  Frenchman  from 
Fort  Dickey,  stood  in  the  presence  of  the  factor's 
family,  vastly  embarrassed,  but  bursting  with  news. 

"  Ah,  by  gar!  "  he  cried  when  permission  to  speak 
had  been  given;  "  dere  is  gran'  trouble  in  de  distric'. 


8o  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

Everywhere,  de  trapper  is  gone  away  —  everywhere 
de  shanty  Is  desert\  B-goshI  For  sure,  dere  Is 
something  wrong!  One,  two,  ten,  dirteen  days  ago, 
dat  brave  Captain  McTavIsh  go  on  de  long  trail  for 
Charley  Seguis,  an'  have  not  been  heard  of  since. 
Diahle!  Perhaps,  he  no  find  heem  in  dat  time;  any- 
way, he  sen'  word  to  de  fort.  But  dis  time?  Non! 
We  haf  no  word,  an'  by  gar!  I  know  somet'ing 
wrong. 

"  I  call  my  dogs,  Ba'tlste  an'  Pierre  an'  Raoul  an' 
Saint  Jean,  an'  pack  de  sleigh.  I  cannot  stan'  my 
brother  lost,  so  I  go  after  heem.  Bien  done!  I 
hunt  de  distric'  careful,  but  I  fin'  not  wan  track  of 
heem.  I  go  to  trapper  shanty  one  after  de  other. 
Peter  Rainy,  he  gone  four  days  before  me,  but  I  not 
even  see  heem.  Tonnerre,  sacre!  De  hair  stan'  on 
my  head  wit'  fear  of  somet'ing  I  do  not  know. 
Mebbe  wan  beeg  loup-garou  eat  every  man  In  de 
distric',  an'  have  his  eye  on  me. 

"  I  go  into  a  shanty,  an'  fin'  paper  not  burn'  In 
stove  just  wan  end.  I  pick  it  up ;  I  read  de  English 
good,  like  I  talk.  McTavIsh  teach  me  dat  on  long 
nights.  B-gosh!  m^sieur,  I  read  dat  fas',  once, 
twice.  Den  I  go  out,  an'  jump  into  de  sleigh,  an' 
point  Ba'tiste's  noge  to  Fort  Severn.  Pauvre  Saint 
Jean,  he  die  I  run  heem  so  hard,  an'  now  I  got  only 
t'ree  dogs." 

"  Stop !  Stop !  "  yelled  the  factor  at  the  top  of 
his  voice,  interrupting  with  difficulty  the  tumbling 
cascade  of  Cardeple's  speech.  "  Have  you  that  pa- 
per with  you?  " 


THE  ALARM  8i 

**  Ouiy  by  garl ''  cried  the  Frenchman  proudly, 
digging  Into  his  fur  coat,  and  finally  producing  a 
half-sheet  of  rough  paper,  charred  at  the  upper  edge. 

FItzpatrIck  puzzled  over  it  for  a  full  minute. 
Then,  his  eyes  began  to  bulge,  and  the  veins  in  his 
neck  to  swell  as  he  read  aloud: 

The  brotherhood  meets  in  five  days  at  Sturgeon  Lake. 
Bring  your  early  furs  to  the  post  there. 

Seguis,  Chief  Free-Trader. 

"  Free-traders  I  Free-traders  I  "  he  gasped. 
"  By  heaven,  this  is  too  much !  For  thirty  years,  I 
have  been  factor  in  this  district,  and  kept  the  hunt- 
ers in  line.  But,  now,  there's  a  brotherhood  of  free- 
traders. They'll  flout  the  Company,  will  they? 
They'll  flout  me,  eh?  I'll  show  them,  by  heaven! 
I'll  show  them!" 

The  factor  heaved  himself  out  of  his  chair,  and 
lumbered  excitedly  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  And  Seguis  is  at  the  head  of  it.  I  wonder 
where  that  man,  McTavish,  is?  If  he  has  done  his 
duty,  that  sneaking  half-breed  is  either  dead  or  tied 
to  a  sledge  on  his  way  here.  That'll  break  'em  up 
quick  enough  —  taking  their  leader  I  It's  up  to  him, 
now.  .  .  .  Cardepie,  send  the  chief  trader  of  the 
fort  and  the  doctor  to  me,  at  once.  We'll  have  to 
organize  to  meet  this  situation." 

The  Frenchman,  frightened  at  the  anger  of  the 
fierce  old  man,  was  glad  enough  to  make  his  escape. 
Fitzpatrick  turned  to  his  daughters. 

"  Girls,  please  have  your  dinners  brought  upstairs 


82  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

to  you  to-night.  I  want  to  talk  business  with  my 
chiefs  at  the  table." 

Obediently,  the  two  young  women  rose  and  left 
the  room,  glad,  In  their  turn,  to  avoid  the  tantrum 
of  the  Irate  factor. 

Morning  found  Fort  Severn  In  a  tumult  of  ex- 
citement. The  news  of  the  free-trading  organiza- 
tion had  spread  until  even  the  dullest  Indian  had 
been  made  aware  of  It. 

The  council  of  department  heads,  at  dinner  the 
night  before,  had  unanimously  decided  that  but  one 
course  lay  open  to  them  —  to  crush  the  rebellion 
against  the  Company  before  It  could  reach  any  larger 
proportions.  At  the  same  time,  It  was  agreed  that 
a  wait  of  a  few  days  would  be  judicious,  for  In  that 
time  McTavIsh  might  come  in  with  Charley  Seguls 
as  his  prisoner. 

No  one  doubted  for  a  moment  that,  if  McTavIsh 
came  at  all,  it  would  be  either  to  announce  the  death 
of  the  man  he  had  set  out  to  capture,  or  to  hand  his 
prisoner  over  to  the  authorities.  Such  was  Donald's 
reputation  In  the  district. 

Nevertheless,  all  necessary  preparations  for  a  mili- 
tary expedition  were  made.  Storekeeper  Trent 
drew  liberally  on  his  supplies,  and  kept  his  helpers 
busy  making  up  packs  for  traveling.  Also,  he 
opened  cases  of  cartridges,  that  he  might  serve  them 
out  to  the  men  on  a  moment's  notice.  Sledges  were 
overhauled  and  repaired. 

About  noon  of  the  third  day,  a  dog-train  and 
sledge,  with  one  man  walking  beside  it,  were  sighted 


THE  ALARM  83 

far  across  the  frozen  Severn,  headed  toward  the  fort. 
Half  an  hour  later,  a  man  stationed  in  one  of  the 
bastions  with  a  field-glass  announced  that  a  second 
man  lay  on  the  sledge. . 

"That  settles  it,''  said  he.  "It's  McTavish 
bringing  in  Charley  Seguis." 

A  sigh  of  relief  went  up,  for  all  knew  their  task 
would  now  be  easier.  After  another  space,  however, 
the  man  with  the  glass  began  to  focus  industriously 
and  mutter  to  himself. 

"  That's  not  McTavish  walking  at  all !  "  he  sud- 
denly cried.  "  It's  an  Indian."  And  five  minutes 
later :  "  By  heaven  I  That's  McTavish  on  the 
sleigh." 

Thus  did  the  fort  first  know  of  the  happening  to 
the  captain  of  Fort  Dickey.  When  the  dogs,  with  a 
final  burst  of  speed  and  music  of  bells,  swept  through 
the  tunneled  snow  of  the  main  gate,  the  whole  settle- 
ment gathered  around  curiously. 

With  a  wry  grin,  McTavish  rose  from  the  furs 
that  wrapped  him,  and,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand, 
but  no  word,  started  directly  for  the  factor's  house. 
One  hand  was  bound  In  strips  of  fur  and  a  fold  of 
his  capote  shielded  his  eyes  from  the  glare.  He  was 
beginning  to  see  again,  however,  and  went  straight 
toward  his  object,  turning  aside  all  questions  with  a 
shake  of  his  head. 

Not  so  with  Peter  Rainy.  The  center  of  an  ad- 
miring and  curious  group,  he  narrated  his  adventures 
with  many  a  flourish  and  exaggeration.  Reduced  to 
a  few  words,  the  facts  were  these : 


84  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

When  McTavish  had  refused  to  take  his  old  serv- 
ant on  the  hunt  for  Charley  Seguls,  Rainy  had 
moped  disconsolate  for  almost  a  week.  It  was  the 
first  time  they  had  ever  been  separated  on  a  dog  or 
canoe  journey.  At  the  end  of  that  period,  when  no 
runner  had  brought  word  of  his  master,  the  Indian 
became  restless  and  anxious. 

Finally,  having  nothing  himself,  he  had  mended 
an  old  sleigh  at  the  fort,  borrowed  Buller's  dog- 
team,  and  set  out  to  locate  McTavish,  against  the 
desire  and  advice  of  Cardeple  and  Buller. 

How  he  had  followed  the  blind  trail,  how  he  had 
escaped  capture  at  Lake  Sturgeon  by  a  hair's  breadth 
and  a  snowfall  that  obliterated  his  tracks,  and  how 
he  had,  finally,  in  despair,  started  for  Fort  Severn 
for  help,  took  long  in  the  telling. 

But  the  same  snowfall  that  saved  him,  saved  Mc- 
Tavish, for,  in  taking  a  cut  through  the  woods, 
Rainy  had  come  upon  the  erratic  tracks  of  the  blind 
man,  and  followed  them  without  the  slightest  sus- 
picion of  whose  they  were,  only  knowing  that  some- 
one was  in  distress. 

The  meeting  between  man  and  master,  just  barely 
in  time  to  save  the  latter's  life,  had  been  fervent,  but 
reserved.  McTavish  gave  himself  up  to  the  minis- 
trations of  the  other  like  a  child,  and  obediently  rode 
almost  all  the  way  to  the  fort  on  the  sledge,  his  eyes 
covered.  Food  there  had  been  in  plenty,  so  that,  by 
the  time  the  snowy  masses  of  Fort  Severn  showed 
themselves,  he  had  regained  nearly  all  his  strength. 

But,  while  Peter  Rainy  was  satisfying  curious  ears 


THE  ALARM  85 

outside,  a  far  different  scene  was  taking  place  In  the 
factor's  private  office.  Donald,  the  covering  re- 
moved from  his  eyes  in  the  darkened  room,  faced 
Angus  Fitzpatrick  across  the  latter's  desk,  and 
briefly  told  the  story  of  his  adventures. 

When  he  had  finished  the  account,  there  was 
silence  in  the  room  for  a  minute.  Fitzpatrick  scowled. 
Something  about  this  young  man,  even  his  presence 
itself,  seemed  to  irritate  him. 

"  Where  Is  the  man  you  went  out  to  get,  Mc- 
Tavish?"  asked  the  factor. 

"  At  Sturgeon  Lake." 

"  He  ought  to  be  here  In  jail.*' 

"  I  know  It,  sir.    I  did  the  best  I  could." 

"  The  Hudson  Bay  Company  doesn't  take  that  for 
an  excuse.  It  wants  the  man.  This  is  a  hard  coun- 
try and  a  hard  rule,  but  no  other  rule  will  keep  a  re- 
spect for  law  In  our  territories.  A  shot,  a  dagger- 
thrust,  anything  to  punish  Seguls  for  his  crime,  and 
this  ruffianly  collection  of  free-traders  would  have 
disbanded,  leaderless." 

"  But,"  expostulated  McTavIsh,  "  surely  you  do 
not  counsel  murder  as  a  punishment  for  murder." 

"  I  counsel  measures  to  fit  needs.  In  this  vast 
desolation,  I  am  the  law;  I  represent  the  inevitable 
result  of  a  cause,  the  inexorable,  never-failing  punish- 
ment of  a  wrong.  As  my  lieutenant,  you  also  repre- 
sent It.  Charley  Seguls  should  either  be  dead  or  a 
prisoner  here." 

Donald  did  not  answer.  Theoretically,  the  factor 
was  right;  according  to  all  the  traditions  of  the  Com- 


86  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIE 

pany,  he  spoke  the  truth.  But  he  had  evidently  for- 
gotten that  even  the  Company  he  worshiped  was 
made  up  of  men,  who  were  human  and  not  omnip- 
otent. Carried  too  far,  his  premises  were  unjust, 
ridiculous,  and  untenable.  But  of  what  good  were 
arguments? 

"Then,  I  have  failed  In  my  duty?"  McTavIsh 
asked,  wearily. 

"  Judge  for  yourself." 

"  What  are  your  next  orders  for  me?  " 

"  A  hundred  dollars  fine  and  a  month's  confine- 
ment in  the  fort  here." 

McTavIsh  shrank  back  as  though  a  blow  had  been 
aimed  at  him. 

"  You  can't  mean  it,  Mr.  FItzpatrick,"  he  cried, 
passionately.  "  I  have  earned  no  such  disgrace. 
Command  anything  but  that;  send  me  to  the  ends 
of  the  district;  let  me  go  back  to  Sturgeon  Lake,  and 
throw  my  life  away  there,  if  you  must  have  it;  send 
me  to  the  loneliest  trading-post  in  Keewatin,  but 
don't  disgrace  me  needlessly,  unjustly." 

"  I  can  only  do  what  my  conscience  dictates,"  said 
the  factor  coldly. 

"  Well,  all  I  can  say  is,  that,  if  heaven  has  a  con- 
science like  yours,  God  help  you  when  you  die,  Mr. 
FItzpatrick." 

The  factor  touched  a  bell,  and,  an  instant  later 
Tee-ka-mee  stepped  noiselessly  Into  the  room. 

"  Take  Mr.  McTavIsh  to  his  room  in  the  old 
barracks,"  FItzpatrick  directed.    "  And,  by  the  way, 


THE  ALARM  87 

► 

please  ask  Miss  Jean  to  come  here  a  moment.  I 
wish  to  speak  with  her." 

At  the  innocent  request,  Tee-ka-mee  almost  fell 
to  the  floor  with  terror. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  you  demon?" 
growled  the  factor.  "  Have  you  been  drinking 
again?  " 

"  No,  no,  no,"  cried  the  Indian,  hastily.  "  I  am 
afraid  —  I  must  tell  you  —  Miss  Jean  —  Oh, 
what  can  I  say?  " 

"  In  heaven's  name,  what's  the  matter?  What's 
this  about  Miss  Jean?"  shouted  the  factor. 

"  She  is  gone,  sir,  disappeared  completely  I " 
cried  the  frightened  Indian.  "  Her  serving-woman 
has  been  searching  for  hours.  She  went  tobogganing 
out  behind  the  fort  at  ten  o'clock,  with  the  mission- 
ary's wife.  Mrs.  Gates  came  in  at  noon,  but  Miss 
Jean  said  she  would  slide  once  or  twice  more,  alone. 
She  hasn't  come  in,  and  we  can  find  no  trace  of  her." 

"  Why  wasn't  I  told  of  this?  "  cried  the  factor,  in 
a  weak,  pitiful  voice. 

**  We  didn't  want  to  alarm  you  unnecessarily,  sir," 
said  Tee-ka-mee. 

"  Oh,  get  out  of  here  I  Leave  me  alone,"  groaned 
Fitzpatrick;  and  the  two  men  quietly  went  out,  and 
closed  the  door  on  the  old  man's  grief. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  BROKEN  PIPE 

"POR  nearly  the  whole  night,  Donald  McTavish 
"*•  had  paced  the  bare  little  room  that  had  been  set 
aside  for  him.  Now,  he  looked  at  his  watch.  It 
was  four  o'clock. 

The  thought  occurred  to  him  that  he  ought  to  get 
some  rest,  but  Immediately  his  common  sense  told 
him  that  for  twenty-five  days  more  he  would  have 
nothing  to  do  but  rest,  and,  spurred  on  by  the  witches 
that  rode  his  racing  mind,  he  continued  his  anlmal- 
llke  pacing.  Up  one  side,  across  past  the  foot  of  the 
bed ;  back  again  and  down ;  that  was  his  route.  And, 
while  his  feet  traversed  but  seven  or  eight  yards, 
his  mind  was  speeding  across  all  the  leagueless  spaces 
of  the  Northland. 

Where  was  she?  Where  was  she?  This  was  the 
continual  refrain  that  rang  in  his  ears.  For  five 
days  now,  Jean  FItzpatrIck  had  been  gone;  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  silent,  snowy  wastes.  Who  had 
taken  her?    Why?    And  whither? 

When  Tee-ka-mee's  announcement  spread  through 
the  post,  fifty  men  had  rushed  out  to  the  search,  curs- 
ing, sobbing,  or  praying,  each  according  to  his  own 
temperament ;  for  nowhere  In  all  the  Northland  was 
a  girl  more  beloved  than  was  Jean  FItzpatrIck.    Sum- 

88 


THE  BROKEN  PIPE  89 

mer  and  winter,  the  days  were  full  of  little  kindnesses 
of  hers,  so  that  her  disappearance  was  not  a  signal 
for  a  "  duty  "  search,  but  one  In  which  every  man 
worked  as  though  he  alone  had  been  to  blame  for 
her  loss. 

Her  toboggan  had  been  found  at  the  top  of  the 
hill  where  she  and  Mrs.  Gates  had  spent  the  morn- 
ing, and  on  the  hard  crust  a  few  dim  tracks  could 
be  seen  leading  Into  the  forest,  with  now  and  then  a 
dent  where,  perhaps,  the  glrPs  snowshoe  had  gone 
through.  But  aside  from  these  unsatisfying  clews 
not  a  trace  of  her  could  be  located. 

For  two  days,  the  searchers  took  every  trail,  travel- 
ing light  and  running  swiftly,  but  to  no  avail.  The 
girl  had  disappeared  as  though  evaporated  by  the 
sun. 

Then  did  old  Angus  Fitzpatrick,  bowed  with  grief, 
summon  his  council  and  deliberate  as  to  the  affairs  at 
Sturgeon  Lake.  Stern  old  disciplinarian  with  others, 
he  was  none  the  less  so  with  himself  in  his  dark 
hour,  and  even  begrudged  the  two  days  of  the  Com- 
pany's time  that  he  had  used  In  the  search  for  Jean. 

Unanimously  against  him  stood  the  entire  council 
when  he  mentioned  the  free-traders,  and  suggested 
that  they  be  run  to  earth.  His  chiefs  of  departments 
almost  refused  to  embark  on  any  project  until  the 
factor's  daughter  should  be  found.  But  old  Fitz- 
patrick with  the  autocracy  of  thirty  years  in  the  Far 
North,  snarled  their  sentiments  down  with  his  own, 
and  forced  them  to  the  Company's  business  in  hand. 

And  so  it  was  at  last  decided  that  almost  the  en- 


9Q  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

tire  force  of  men,  well-armed  and  well-provisioned, 
should  take  the  trail  for  Sturgeon  Lake,  led  by  the 
factor  himself.  Vainly,  his  lieutenants  begged  the 
white-haired  chief  to  remain  in  the  comparative 
safety  and  comfort  of  the  fort.  Declaring  that  this 
was  the  only  trouble  in  all  his  years  in  the  North, 
and  that  he  would  put  it  down  himself,  Fitzpatrick 
remained  inexorable. 

"  Besides,"  he  added  pathetically,  "  if  anything 
should  be  heard  from  Jean,  I  would  be  there  to  fol- 
low it  up." 

All  this  Donald  heard  from  Peter  Rainy  and  his 
guards,  as  he  sat  chafing  in  his  little  room.  During 
the  excitement,  the  captain  of  Fort  Dickey  and  his 
miraculous  escape  from  death  never  entered  the 
minds  of  the  community.  Had  it  not  been  for  Peter 
Rainy  and  the  guard,  he  would  have  fared  ill  indeed. 

The  morning  of  the  fourth  day  was  hardest  of 
all.  Then,  the  fifty  men,  with  many  dogs,  sledges, 
and  packs,  tinkled  out  from  the  fort  across  the  icy 
river,  sped  on  their  way  by  the  waving  hands  of 
women,  old  men,  and  the  furious  few  selected  by  lot 
to  remain  and  keep  the  big  fort. 

That  same  day,  Peter  Rainy,  under  strict  orders 
from  the  factor,  who  had  at  last  recollected  his 
prisoner,  hitched  up  Buller's  dogs,  and  departed  for 
Fort  Dickey.  Before  he  went,  he  had  only  a  min- 
ute's speech  with  McTavish,  saying  something  at 
which  the  Scotchman  shook  his  head  violently,  and 
scowled  with  anger.  Then,  the  guard  came,  and  the 
interview  was  at  an  end. 


THE  BROKEN  PIPE  91 

Now,  on  this  dark  morning,  dismal  thoughts 
marched  through  Donald's  mind.  But  what  chafed 
him  most  was  his  forced  inaction.  For  twenty-five 
days  more,  he  must  sit  in  that  pestilential  prison 
while  all  about  him  events  of  great  moment  were 
being  lived,  and  the  girl  he  loved  was  perhaps  dying 
in  the  merciless  hands  of  her  father's  enemies. 

And,  then,  there  was  temptation  because  of  some- 
thing, barely  understood,  that  Rainy  had  mumbled. 

**  Break  your  pipe,  and  ask  for  the  one  in  the  hall- 
way," he  had  said. 

This  enigmatic  remark  should  be  explained.  For 
years,  the  factor  at  Fort  Severn  had  kept  in  his  hall- 
way an  enormous  pipe-rack.  Here,  in  appropriate 
rings  were  souvenir  pipes  from  every  white  man  that 
had  ever  visited  the  post.  Most  prized  of  all  was 
one  that  had  belonged  to  the  great  governor  of  the 
Company,  Sir  George  Simpson,  who  yearly  traveled 
thousands  of  miles  in  regal  state,  with  red  banners 
floating  from  his  canoes,  and  a  matchless  crew  of 
Iroquois  paddlers  whose  traditional  feats  are  un- 
broken even  to  this  day. 

There  were  pipes  of  all  the  governors  and  all  the 
factors  of  the  post  from  its  earliest  foundation. 
Many  of  the  men  whose  souvenirs  were  there  had 
long  since  been  forgotten,  yet  their  names  and  pipes 
still  remained. 

In  the  fifth  row,  seventh  from  the  left,  hung  a 
splendid  briar  that  Donald  had  contributed,  and  it 
was  to  this  that  Peter  Rainy  had  referred,  since 
there  was  a  rule  that  a  man  might  borrow  his  pipe 


92  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

if  he  needed  it,  but  must  be  sure  to  have  it  returned 
to  its  proper  place. 

Why  should  he  break  his  pipe,  and  ask  for  the 
one  in  the  hallway?  That  in  his  pocket  was  sweet 
and  rich  and  mellow,  the  one  in  the  hall  an  unsmoked 
instrument,  which  would  keep  his  tongue  blistered 
for  many  a  day.  But  how  to  get  it,  even  should  he 
want  it?    That  was  a  question  he  could  not  solve. 

After  a  while,  the  prisoner,  worn  out  with  his  long 
tramp,  lay  down  on  his  cot,  and  fell  into  a  heavy 
sleep,  from  which  he  was  awakened  by  the  old  In- 
dian, who  came  to  bring  him  his  breakfast.  With 
the  latter  came  a  message  utterly  disconcerting. 

"  Captain  McTavish,*'  said  the  man,  "  there  will 
be  someone  here  to  visit  you  later  this  morning.'* 

"Who?" 

"  Miss  Laura  Fitzpatrick.*' 

Donald  gasped. 

"  What  have  I  done  to  deserve  this  punishment?  '* 
he  asked  himself.  And  then,  aloud :  "  Why  is  she 
coming  to  see  me?'* 

"I  don't  know,"  was  the  answer;  "she  merely 
told  me  to  tell  you." 

When  the  expedition  departed  to  Sturgeon  Lake, 
but  two  white  women  had  been  left  —  Mrs.  Gates, 
the  missionary's  wife,  and  Laura  Fitzpatrick.  The 
latter,  a  maiden  upward  of  thirty-five,  had  decided 
to  remain  in  solitary  glory  as  mistress  of  the  factor's 
house,  feeling  amply  protected  by  the  few  white  men 
left  at  the  post. 

The  captive  had  reasons  for  not  desiring  this  visit, 


THE  BROKEN  PIPE  93 

outside  of  the  possible  Impropriety.  The  summer 
before,  during  his  happy  weeks  In  Jean's  company, 
circumstances  often  shaped  themselves  so  that  there 
were  three  persons  on  their  little  canoe  trips  and 
picnics  —  and  the  third  was  Miss  Fitzpatrick.  Her 
Ingenuity  in  these  matters  had  been  positively  re- 
markable. And  the  entire  post  had  grinned  up  its 
sleeve,  knowing  old  FItzpatrick's  declaration  that 
Jean  should  not  marry  until  Laura  had  been  taken 
off  his  hands. 

For  the  first  time  In  her  life,  Laura  had  evinced 
an  Interest  in  the  genus  man.  Consequently,  Donald 
now  awaited  her  arrival  with  some  trepidation. 

About  eleven  o'clock  she  came,  unaccompanied 
except  by  the  old  Indian  who  looked  after  Mc- 
Tavish's  wants.  She  was  small  and  spare,  and  wore 
glasses  that  enlarged  her  mild  blue  eyes.  She  had 
overcome  nature's  delinquency  In  the  matter  of  luxu- 
rious hair  by  the  application  of  a  "  transformation," 
done  Into  numerous  elastic  curls.  Because  of  the 
difficulty  of  communication  with  the  outside  world, 
this  was  now  several  shades  lighter  than  her  own, 
a  fact  which  gave  her  great  pain,  but  was  really  quite 
unavoidable. 

Leaving  the  door  open,  she  sat  down  In  the  one 
chair,  while  Donald  leaned  on  his  elbow  In  the  deep 
window  embrasure. 

"  Oh,"  she  gasped  breathlessly,  "  I  suppose  you 
think  I'm  awful,  don't  you.  Captain?  " 

Her  curls  bobbed,  and  a  faint  color  showed  in 
her  cheeks. 


94  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIE 

*'  Quite  the  contrary,  Miss  Fitzpatrick/'  he  re- 
plied, gravely.  "  I  feel  that  only  the  highest  motives 
of  —  well  —  er  —  pity,  have  actuated  you  to  look 
in  upon  a  man  forced  to  take  a  month's  rest.  It  was 
really  kind  of  you,  but  have  you  —  er  —  that  is, 
thought  of  yourself,  and  what  people  might  say  when 
it  becomes  known?  " 

"  Oh,  dear,"  she  sighed,  "  of  course  that  will  have 
to  be  faced,  won't  it?  But  I  guess  I'm  old  enough 
to  be  past  scandal.  Really,  you  have  no  idea  how 
old  I'm  getting  to  be.  Captain  McTavish.'* 

"  A  woman  is  only  as  old  as  her  impulses.  Miss 
Fitzpatrick,"  replied  the  captain,  gallantly.  "  And 
your  impulse  this  morning  could  hardly  place  you 
above  —  let's  see  —  twenty  at  the  outside." 

The  maiden  lady  appeared  uncertain  as  to  the 
possible  compliment  in  this  statement,  but  at  last  de- 
cided to  accept  it. 

"  You're  the  same  old  flatterer.  Captain,  the  very 
same,"  she  gurgled. 

Presently,  the  conversation  dragged. 

"  Do  you  know  why  I  came  to  see  you  to- 
day? "  asked  Miss  Fitzpatrick,  and,  at  Donald's 
negation,  continued :  "  I  thought  you  must  be  lone- 
some out  here,  particularly  with  everyone  gone  on 
the  expedition,  and  —  and  —  I  came  to  tell  you  that 
I  think  your  imprisonment  is  the  most  unjust  thing 
I  ever  heard  of." 

"  Do  you,  really?  "  cried  the  young  man,  eagerly. 

"  I  certainly  do,  and  I  spoke  to  father  about  it, 
severely.    For  a  time,  I  thought  I  was  going  to  get 


THE  BROKEN  PIPE  95 

you  off,  but  something  seemed  to  occur  to  him,  and 
he  got  angry,  and  said  not  to  mention  the  subject 
again.  But  I  thought  I  would  tell  you  just  what  I 
think  of  it." 

"  I  can't  thank  you  enough,"  said  Donald,  ap- 
proaching her  Impulsively,  for  the  little  woman's 
efforts  in  his  behalf  really  touched  him.  "  I  didn't 
know  I  had  a  friend  in  the  world  until  this  minute, 
and  I  tell  you  I'm  grateful  —  more  so  than  you 
have  any  idea.  You  were  more  than  good,  and  I 
sha'n't  forget  it." 

At  his  approach.  Miss  FItzpatrick  had  pushed  her 
chair  back  nervously  several  inches,  and,  now,  Don- 
ald turned  away  to  hide  the  smile  that  would  strug- 
gle to  his  face,  despite  his  efforts  at  suppression.  To 
bridge  the  situation,  he  pulled  his  pipe  from  his 
pocket,  and  began  to  examine  it  intently. 

"  And  that  isn't  all,"  continued  Miss  FItzpatrick, 
nerving  herself  for  speech  so  that  her  curls  quiv- 
ered violently.  "  I  want  you  to  know  that  I  will  do 
anything  in  my  power  to  make  your  confinement 
here  easier,  and  will  always  have  your  interest  at 
heart  wherever  you  are.  .  .  .  There  I  " 

**  You  are  a  dear  little  woman,  and  I'm  over- 
whelmed with  your  kindness,"  said  Donald,  In  the 
deep,  rich  voice  he  unconsciously  used  when  moved. 
And,  at  that,  the  scarlet  tide  of  joy  that  had  been 
hovering  uncertainly  In  Miss  FItzpatrick  mounted 
with  a  rush  and  suffused  her  pale  little  face. 

"  Now,"  she  went  on  briskly,  to  cover  her  con- 
fusion, "  there  are  a  lot  of  newspapers  at  the  house 


96  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

that  of  course  you  haven't  read.  I'll  send  them 
over,  with  a  book  or  two  Mrs.  Ponshette,  at  York, 
sent  down  for  Christmas.  You  really  must  do  some- 
thing to  pass  the  time." 

Once  more,  Donald  thanked  her,  when  suddenly, 
without  the  slightest  intention,  his  pipe  slipped  from 
his  fingers,  and  fell  to  the  floor.  With  an  exclama- 
tion of  annoyance,  he  picked  it  up,  to  find  that  the 
amber  stem  had  broken  off  close  to  the  brier,  render- 
ing it  almost  useless.  Now  he  must  have  the  other 
pipe,  despite  what  Peter  Rainy  had  hinted,  and  who 
could  get  it  but  Laura  Fitzpatrick? 

Showing  her  the  broken  pieces  in  his  hand,  he  ex- 
claimed that  life  would  be  unbearable  without  to- 
bacco, and  asked  her  to  send  his  reserve  pipe  over 
from  the  rack  in  the  hall.  This  she  promised  to  do, 
and  a  little  later  rose  to  take  her  leave. 

"  You're  not  a  good  host,  Captain  McTavish,'^ 
she  said,  at  the  doorway. 

"Why?"  he  questioned. 

"  You  haven't  asked  me  to  call  again." 

"  Forgive  me !  "  cried  the  confused  man.  "  Please, 
come  as  often  as  you  wish.  I  have  enjoyed  the  visit 
immensely." 

"  So  have  I,"  she  returned,  with  a  coy,  sidelong 
look  from  her  mild  blue  eyes,  and  then,  at  last,  she 
shut  the  door  behind  her. 

Donald  was  really  grateful  for  the  call,  as  It  had 
taken  his  mind  from  the  brooding  that  had  occupied 
it  so  continuously,  and,  for  hours  afterward,  he 
smiled  almost  unconsciously  at  the  quaint  transpar- 


THE  BROKEN  PIPE  97 

ency,  but  utter  good-heartedness,  of  the  woman's 
character. 

Early  in  the  afternoon,  the  promised  package  of 
papers  and  the  pipe  arrived.  The  prisoner,  who, 
like  all  northern  woodsmen,  found  a  pipe  his  boon 
companion,  filled  the  bowl  with  tobacco,  and  tried  to 
light  it. 

Somehow,  the  brier  would  not  draw,  and  Mc- 
Tavish  impatiently  unscrewed  the  stem  from  the  bowl 
to  investigate.  In  the  small  cavity  thus  exposed,  he 
saw  an  obstruction  which,  when  dug  out  with  a  pin, 
proved  to  be  a  sheet  of  thin  paper,  very  carefully 
rolled. 

Straightening  it  out,  Donald  saw  pencil-marks  in 
strange  triangles.  There  were  V's  and  U's  placed 
in  any  of  four  positions,  and  queer  symbols  that  re- 
sembled the  "  pot-hooks  "  of  shorthand  more  than 
anything  else. 

For  a  moment,  he  stared  perplexed,  and  then 
memory  returned  to  him.  This  was,  indeed,  a  mes- 
sage from  Peter  Rainy,  and  written  in  the  only  lan- 
guage the  old  Indian  could  use  —  the  Cree  symbols 
into  which  the  Bible  had  been  translated  by  the 
zealous  missionary,  James  Evans,  back  in  the  fifties. 
On  long  winter  nights  at  Fort  Dickey,  Peter  Rainy 
had  taught  his  superior  to  read  and  write  in  this 
obsolete  fashion. 

Now,  Donald  bent  to  the  work.  The  first  words 
came  hard,  but,  before  he  had  finished  the  paper, 
he  was  reading  easily.  And  this,  freely  translated, 
is  what  he  saw: 


98  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

I  will  be  a  mile  in  the  woods,  along  the  old  beaver  trail, 
from  the  fifth  night  after  Miss  Jean's  departure  until  the 
tenth.  If  you  do  not  come  by  then  I  will  go  back  to  Fort 
Dickey  and  return  for  you  when  your  month  is  up.  There 
is  work  for  you  to  do.  I  have  a  clew  as  to  Miss  Jean,  but 
you  must  act  at  once  if  you  expect  to  save  her.  I  have 
sawed  the  bars  of  your  window  almost  through  at  the  bot- 
tom.    When  in  the  woods  call  me  with  the  cry  of  an  owl. 

Peter. 

And,  having  read,  Donald  McTavish  mechan- 
ically lighted  his  pipe,  and  began  to  smoke  furiously. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   ESCAPE 

TT  was  the  old  battle  between  love  and  duty. 
•■■  The  pile  of  covered  newspapers  lay  unheeded 
beside  the  young  man's  chair.  He  pictured  Jean 
Fitzpatrick  in  every  conceivable  peril  of  the  winter 
on  those  desolate  barrens  —  as  the  prisoner  of  In- 
dians, of  trappers,  as  the  prey  of  wild  beasts,  as  the 
prey  of  men.  He  writhed  at  his  impotence,  and 
cursed  the  day  that  had  seen  his  rescue  on  Death 
Trail.  Better  a  skeleton  without  flesh,  he  thought, 
than  a  living  being  whose  every  thought  tortured 
him  to  desperation. 

And,  yet,  there  was  something  in  the  idea  of  es- 
cape that  seemed  shameful  to  him.  If  he  had  done 
wrong,  he  must  take  his  medicine;  if  he  had  failed, 
he  must  atone  for  the  failure  according  to  the  de- 
crees of  his  superior.  That  was  the  discipline  in 
him  responding  to  the  discipline  of  Fitzpatrick.  It 
was  the  iron  McTavish  to  the  fore  rather  than  the 
passionate  flesh-and-blood  McTavish. 

A  grim  smile  lighted  his  features  for  a  moment, 
as  he  thought  of  Laura,  the  factor's  daughter,  inno- 
cently placing  in  his  hands  the  means  of  setting  at 
naught  her  father's  commands.  Her  naive  zeal  for 
his  welfare  might  react  to  her  own  loss. 

99 


loo  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

The  thing  that  at  last  decided  Donald  was  the 
abiding  sense  of  Injustice  that  had  all  along  burned 
in  him  against  this  humiliating  confinement.  Had  he 
been  actually  unfaithful  to  duty,  he  would  have  put 
the  thought  of  escape  away  harshly.  As  it  was,  the 
inherent  fear  of  that  great,  inevitable  Juggernaut, 
the  Company,  stirred  In  him.  But  he  crushed  it 
down  resolutely.  This  was  an  affair  of  persons,  not 
of  companies.  .  .  .  He  would  go  I 

To-night  was  the  fifth  after  Jean's  departure. 
There  was  much  to  be  done  before  he  could  be 
ready.  Then,  too,  something  might  have  happened 
to  Peter  to  prevent  his  reaching  the  rendezvous  on 
time.  Donald  decided  that  he  would  go  the  next 
night 

The  manner  Peter  Rainy  had  Indicated  was  the 
only  feasible  one  for  escape.  The  room  in  which 
the  captive  was  confined  was  one  of  some  twenty*- 
odd  built  along  the  strong  wall  that  surrounded  the 
post.  Across  the  narrow  corridor  that  connected 
the  row  of  rooms  on  the  inside,  the  heavy  masonry 
of  the  wall  jutted  out  roughly.  At  the  end  of  the 
corridor,  a  stout  door  was  locked  and  bolted  at  night, 
so  that  during  the  dark  hours  the  window  was  the 
only  means  of  egress. 

Next  morning,  after  breakfast,  Donald  called  the 
old  Indian  servant  to  him. 

"  Michael,"  he  said,  "  this  is  just  the  time  for  me 
to  do  some  work  on  my  outfit.  My  fur  suit  is  badly 
in  need  of  repair,  and  one  of  my  showshoes  needs 
restrlnglng  near  the  curl.     I  want  to  be  all  ship- 


THE  ESGA]?!;...  ;       .  .;:    loi 

shape  when  my  time  is  up:'-\ViU  yag.-brfirtg^-th^r?^  to 
me?''  '••••*'-'••    "'•'"  "" 

The  Indian's  instant  acquiescence  gave  the  young 
man  a  pang.  Such  was  his  reputation  for  honor 
among  these  men  that  his  jailer  had  often  declared 
he  could  leave  the  doors  unlocked  and  still  have  a 
prisoner  in  the  morning.  Now,  Donald  was  about 
to  blast  this  old  man's  faith.  He  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders helplessly,  however,  and  thought  no  more  on 
the  subject.  Once  his  decision  had  been  made,  he 
would  hold  fast  by  it  to  the  end. 

McTavish  had  spoken  truly.  His  hunting  suit 
of  white  caribou  was  badly  frayed  and  worn  after 
his  blind  wanderings  in  the  forest,  and  not  only  did 
one  snowshoe  need  restrlnging,  but  both  were  loose 
from  his  frequent  awkward  falls.  Even  old  Michael, 
whose  eyes  were  weak,  could  see  these  things. 

With  atibisc  —  fine,  tough  sinews  of  the  caribou 
—  Donald  strung  the  defective  toe,  and  then  made 
a  not  very  successful  shift  at  tightening  the  center 
webbing  of  askimoneiab,  or  heavy,  membranous 
moose  filling.  The  mending  of  his  clothes  was  a 
comparatively  simple  matter  by  means  of  needle  and 
thread. 

All  day  he  worked  at  this,  so  planning  that  even- 
ing should  find  the  task  uncompleted,  as  an  excuse 
for  Michael  to  leave  the  equipment  over  night. 

As  fortune  would  have  it,  snow  began  to  fall 
shortly  before  sundown,  and  McTavish  was  robbed 
of  the  stars  for  guidance  once  he  should  be  free. 
But  the  heavy,  swirling  curtain  of  flakes  made  his 


102  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

WQ-rk 'ifisicie  tU(yioxt  niuch.  easier.  At  dinner-time, 
the  "wind  had  risen/ arid  the  storm  outside  was  of 
such  fury  that  only  the  hardiest  Indian  or  trapper 
would  have  ventured  out  in  it.  This  gave  the  cap- 
tive some  concern,  but  he  realized  that  he  must  either 
go  now,  or  else  lose  his  opportunity. 

As  was  his  custom,  Michael  sat  up  smoking  with 
a  few  cronies  in  a  near-by  room  until  about  ten 
o'clock.  Then,  he  let  his  friends  out  of  the  cor- 
ridor, and  securely  fastened  the  door  behind  them 
with  lock  and  bolt.  After  that,  he  looked  into  Mc- 
Tavish's  room,  to  find  the  Scotchman  almost  ready 
for  bed.  With  his  customary  respectful  good-night, 
he  shut  and  locked  the  door,  and  shuffled  on  to  his 
own  quarters. 

Immediately,  now,  Donald  dressed  himself 
quickly,  and  then  put  out  the  lamp,  which  had  made 
a  square  glow  on  the  snow  outside.  Presently,  the 
light  in  MichaePs  room,  also,  went  out.  McTavish, 
crossing  the  floor  noiselessly  in  his  moccasins,  sat 
down  in  his  chair,  and  smoked  his  new  pipe,  for  the 
better  part  of  an  hour.  By  that  time,  a  gentle  buzz- 
ing, varied  with  wheezes  and  whines,  attested  that 
Michael  was  asleep. 

Forthwith,  Donald  stepped  cautiously  to  the  win- 
dow. He  was  fully  acquainted  with  its  peculiarities ; 
he  had  studied  them  all  day.  It  was  one  of 
those  squares  of  wood  and  glass  set  into  a  frame 
without  any  means  of  opening  either  by  lifting  or 
swinging.  To  escape,  he  would  have  to  push  the 
window  bodily  from  its  frame. 


THE  ESCAPE  103 

But  then  what?  The  bars  were  outside,  and  not 
two  inches  away. 

Following  a  plan  already  matured,  he  took  a  block 
of  wood  from  the  box  beside  the  little,  pot-bellied 
iron  stove.  This  he  wrapped  in  a  blanket,  and  used 
as  a  battering  ram,  at  first  gently,  but,  presently, 
with  more  force,  since  the  noise  of  the  storm 
without  almost  negatived  any  other  sound.  Bang  I 
Bang!  Bang!  Bang!  Each  corner  of  the  win- 
dow, In  turn,  moved  an  eighth  of  an  inch  from  its 
long  resting-place,  with  many  groans  and  snappings 
of  wood  and  Ice.  But,  resolutely,  he  kept  to  the 
work,  stopping  every  now  and  then  to  listen  and 
make  sure  that  Michael  was  still  breathing  heavily. 

At  last,  the  window  was  at  the  edge  of  its  deep 
casement,  and  Donald  now  devoted  his  entire  at- 
tention to  the  lower  corners.  Tapping  them  gently, 
he  got  them  gradually  to  swing  off  the  frame,  and 
the  blast  came  rushing  In.  The  window  now  ap- 
peared as  though  swung  from  hinges  at  the  top. 
McTavish  pushed  It  until  It  came  to  rest  against 
the  iron  bars  outside.  There  was  an  Inch  and  a  half 
of  space  beneath  the  outswung  frame. 

Then,  the  prisoner  changed  his  tools.  Going  to 
the  stove,  he  returned  with  the  poker,  and  the  end 
of  this  he  set  firmly  against  the  last  bar  to  the  right. 
A  quick,  mighty  effort,  and  the  sawed  iron  snapped 
noiselessly,  and  bent  outward  and  upward.  One 
after  another,  he  gave  the  remaining  four  the  same 
treatment.  Eventually,  they  all  stood  out  six  inches 
from  their  almost  imperceptible  stumps. 


104  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

Now,  to  get  rid  of  the  window.  Donald  resorted 
once  again  to  his  muffled  block  of  wood,  and  tapped 
at  the  top  until  the  frame  dropped  silently  off  into 
the  snow.  To  bend  the  bars  back  so  as  to  allow  his 
exit  was  now  an  easy  matter,  and  soon  accomplished. 
With  his  snowshoes  in  his  hands,  he  wriggled  head 
first  through  the  square  opening,  and  landed  easily 
on  the  heaped  snow. 

With  nimble  fingers,  the  snowshoes  were  quickly 
strapped  on,  when  an  idea  occurred  to  him.  He 
groped  on  the  ground  until  he  found  the  window. 

This  he  lifted  up  and  inserted  in  the  frame,  driv- 
ing it  home  with  a  few  sharp  blows.  Then,  he  bent 
the  iron  bars  back  down  until  each  fitted  nicely  over 
its  stump.  Whimsically,  he  imagined  old  MichaePs 
amazement  and  superstitious  fear  when  he  should 
find  the  animal  gone,  but  the  trap  itself  still  un- 
sprung. 

But  what  was  that?  Where  did  that  light  come 
from?  McTavish  was  just  bending  the  last  bar  into 
place  when  he  saw  the  glow  on  the  snow  about  him, 
and  looked  up  in  terror.  There,  in  the  room,  witli 
lamp  held  high  and  terror  on  his  face,  stood  the  old 
Indian,  gazing  on  the  undisturbed  bed.  Even  as 
Donald  looked,  Michael,  the  instinct  of  the  hunter 
still  strong  in  him,  leaped  toward  the  window,  the 
only  possible  means  of  escape. 

With  a  curse  the  fugitive  shrank  back,  then  sprang 
into  the  storm  as  fast  as  he  could  struggle  against 
it.  But  so  strong  was  the  wind  that  he  could  scarcely 
move,  and  all  the  while  he  could  feel  the  Indian's 


THE  ESCAPE  105 

eyes  striving  to  pierce  through  the  snow  curtain  to 
him. 

And  then,  five  minutes  later,  came  the  sound  of  a 
bell  being  violently  tolled,  and  he  knew  that  Michael 
had  given  the  alarm. 

That  night  of  terrible  storm  the  few  men  still 
left  In  the  fort  dreamed  of  battle  and  murder  and 
Indian  attacks,  as  they  had  been  In  the  old  days; 
fires  were  heaped  high,  and  frightened  children  were 
quieted.  What  then  was  the  chill  that  gripped  them 
by  the  heart  when  above  the  howling  of  the  blast 
the  old  warning  tocsin  broke  out  I  Hands  clutched 
at  guns  and  clothing,  and  the  women  and  children 
ran  to  the  windows,  sick  for  fear  lest  the  fort  be 
afire. 

But  there  was  no  glow  brightening  and  growing 
lurid  through  the  snow  curtain.  Commanding  their 
dependents  to  light  lamps  and  dress,  the  men  made 
all  speed  to  the  vestibule  of  the  old  soldiers'  quar- 
ters, where  McTavIsh  had  been  confined,  on  top  of 
which  the  bell  whirled  over  and  over,  its  unaccus- 
tomed voice  thin  and  shrill  with  cold.  It  was  twenty 
years  since  that  bell  had  sounded  a  general  alarm, 
and  the  men,  wild  with  anxiety,  rushed  in  upon 
Michael. 

Meanwhile,  McTavish  was  experiencing  a  fearful 
trial.  During  the  day,  his  plans  of  campaign  had 
been  worked  out  thoroughly  and  had  appeared  sim- 
ple. But,  now,  confused,  battered,  whirled  ruth- 
lessly about,  a  plaything  In  the  mighty  wind,  he  was 
scarcely  able  to  tell  his  right  from  his  left,  and,  had 


io6  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

it  not  been  for  MichaePs  zeal  in  giving  the  alarm, 
this  story  might  have  ended  here. 

With  the  sound  of  the  bell  to  give  him  direction, 
McTavish  bore  off  to  the  left.  There,  the  snow 
had  been  drifted  high  against  the  wall.  More  than 
that,  the  path  that  ran  along  the  latter  had  contri- 
buted materially  to  the  height  of  the  bank,  and  Mc- 
Tavish counted  on  this  means  of  scaling  the  fifteen- 
foot  obstruction.  .  .  .  Would  he  ever  find  the  place? 

At  last,  he  felt  the  ascent  under  his  feet,  and 
struggled  up.  With  a  thankfulness  that  he  had  never 
before  experienced,  he  found  but  three  feet  of  wall 
confronting  him  at  the  top,  and  swung  his  feet  over 
quickly.  What  fortune  awaited  him  on  the  long  drop 
to  earth,  he  did  not  know.  He  remembered  the 
spot  in  summer  as  a  grassy  mound,  with  a  few  small 
rocks  showing  here  and  there.  With  fatalistic  in- 
difference, he  pushed  himself  off,  and,  after  a  breath- 
less second,  struck  the  hard  snow  crust,  and  went 
through  it  with  a  crash,  snowshoes  and  all,  sinking 
to  his  ankles.  It  took  but  a  moment  to  extricate  him- 
self, and  he  now  turned  his  back  to  the  wind,  which 
was  theoretically  from  the  north  —  "  theoretically,'' 
because  in  a  genuine  blizzard  the  wind  has  been 
known  to  blow  upon  the  bewildered  traveler  from 
four  directions  inside  a  minute.  Everywhere  one 
turns,  he  is  met  by  a  breath-taking  blast. 

The  old  Beaver  Trail  started  south  of  the  fort, 
alongside  the  little  hillock  where  Jean  had  been 
tobogganing  the  day  of  her  disappearance,  and 
thence  ran  for  miles,  crossing  the  little  streams  and 


THE  ESCAPE  107 

ponds  where  the  beaver  villages  had  been  built.  Be- 
cause most  of  the  beaver  colonies  had  been  broken 
up  along  this  route,  the  trail  had  been  superseded 
by  another,  called  the  New  Trail;  hence  this  was 
an  unfrequented,  almost  untraveled,  path  that  Peter 
Rainy  had  named. 

Donald  McTavish  knew  every  shrub,  tree,  and 
stone  within  a  mile  of  Fort  Severn  in  any  direction, 
after  the  summer  spent  there,  and  to-night  he  relied 
upon  his  recognition  of  inanimate  objects  to  lead 
him  aright.  A  ghostly  spruce  with  a  wedge-shaped 
bite  out  of  its  stiff  foliage  told  him  he  was  a  hundred 
feet  to  the  right;  a  flat-topped  rock,  suddenly  stum- 
bled upon,  convinced  him  that  for  five  minutes  he 
had  been  walking  back  toward  the  fort. 

The  alarm-bell  had  ceased  ringing  now,  and  he 
could  hear  nothing  but  the  shriek  of  the  wind,  the 
hollow  roaring  of  It  in  the  woods,  and  the  hiss  and 
whish  of  driving  snow.  The  folds  of  his  capote  pro- 
tected him  partially  from  the  stinging  particles,  and 
his  gauntleted  hands  shielded  his  eyes  somewhat. 

Not  another  man  In  Fort  Severn  could  have  found 
the  old  Beaver  Trail  that  night,  and  many  a  time 
during  the  hour  Donald  blessed  the  memory  of  Jean 
FItzpatrick  and  their  many  excursions  In  the  vicinity 
of  the  post.  By  devious  zigzags  and  retraclngs,  he 
suddenly  found  himself  face  to  face  with  a  ten-foot 
stump  that  Indians  had  long  ago  carved  Into  a  sort 
of  totem,  which  had  been  left  standing  as  a  curiosity. 
There,  the  trail  began,  and  he  was  able  to  make 
faster  time,  although  all  evidence  of  a  footway  were, 


io8  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIE 

of  course,  obliterated.  As  he  went  deeper  into  the 
forest,  the  wind  became  steadier  and  less  changeable 
in  direction,  and  the  snow  lost  the  worst  of  its  sting. 

Still  guided  by  old,  friendly  landmarks,  Donald 
drew  near  the  rendezvous.  He  knew  the  place  well. 
It  was  slightly  off  the  trail,  behind  a  bowlder.  At 
last  he  reached  it  and  peered  around.  There,  sleep- 
ing in  a  huddle,  his  feet  to  a  camp-fire,  the  sleigh 
snow-banked  as  a  wind  break,  and  the  dogs  curled 
in  a  black-and-white,  steaming  bundle,  Peter  Rainy 
lay  unconcernedly. 

With  a  cry  of  joy,  Donald  awakened  his  faithful 
servant,  and,  in  the  comparative  shelter  of  the  rock, 
told  his  story  briefly. 

"  Quick,  kick  the  dogs  up !  "  he  cried.  "  We  must 
push  on  at  once.    I  am  followed." 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  HOT  SCENT 

TXT'ITHOUT  a  word,  Rainy  made  preparations 
^^  for  moving.  A  lesser  woodsman  or  lazier 
servant  would  have  demurred,  for,  while  the  bliz- 
zard lasted,  there  was  scarcely  a  chance  in  a  million 
that  any  searcher  from  the  fort  would  find  their 
hiding-place.  Even  now,  the  newcomer's  tracks 
were  already  wiped  clean  from  the  white  page  of 
the  snow. 

But,  when  the  storm  cleared  away,  as  it  might  do 
with  great  suddenness,  they  would  be  in  great  peril 
of  observation,  for,  until  they  should  reach  the  denser 
forest  to  the  south,  there  would  be  many  open  spots 
to  be  crossed  —  open  spots  well  within  the  range 
of  a  field-glass  at  the  fort. 

While  Peter  hitched  up  the  growling  dogs,  Don- 
ald made  the  pack,  and  fastened  it  on  the  sledge. 
But,  before  they  were  ready  to  scatter  the  fire  and 
plunge  into  the  maelstrom  of  the  storm,  the  Scotch- 
man pulled  the  other's  sleeve. 

"What  was  that  clew  you  had  in  regard  to  Jean 
Fitzpatrick?  "  he  shouted  above  the  wind. 

"  Friends  told  me,  very  quiet,  that  old  Maria,  who 
was  at  the  fort  the  day  before  we  arrived,  and  who 
tried  to  see  the  factor,  had  kidnaped  her.     But  for 

109 


no  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIE 

what  reason  I  have  no  idea.  Maybe  she's  angry 
because  old  Fltzpatrick  wouldn't  see  her,  but  the 
man  who  told  me  hinted  at  other  things." 

'*  Was  he  an  Indian?" 

"  Yes;  it  was  Tee-ka-mee." 

"How  did  he  know?" 

"  Butts  tell  him,  he  'said.  He  and  Butts  good 
friends,  because  of  working  in  the  house  together." 

"  Why  didn't  they  say  as  much  when  the  search 
was  being  made?  Then,  they  could  have  run  this 
Indian  hag  to  earth." 

"  Like  most  English  servants,  that  Butts  was 
afraid  to  speak  out,  and  Tee-ka-mee  says  the  idea 
never  occurred  to  him  until  too  late." 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  good  talk,  and  that  the  old 
woman  did  the  trick?  " 

"  I  think  it  is  the  most  likely  explanation.  At 
least,  it  is  something  to  work  on." 

Shortly  afterward,  they  drove  the  dogs  from  the 
shelter  of  the  rock  into  the  teeth  of  the  storm. 
Then,  turning,  they  fled  south  before  the  gale  with 
what  certitude  they  might.  They  had  nothing  to 
guide  them,  neither  stars  nor  brilliant  aurora,  and 
they  struggled  along  the  heavy  trail  only  by  their 
memories  of  it,  and  the  exercise  of  every  particle 
of  woodcraft  they  both  possessed. 

The  trail  was  cruelly  heavy  with  the  snow,  and 
the  dogs  floundered  shoulder-deep  at  times,  even 
when  the  two  men  had  gone  on  before  to  break  the 
way.  Traveling  would  be  hard  until  a  warm  west 
wind  melted  the  surface,  and  gave  a  crust  chance  to 


A  HOT  SCENT  in 

form  over-night.  Frequently,  they  rested  in  the  lee 
of  a  bold  rock,  and  continued  their  talk.  They  left 
no  back  trail,  for  hardly  could  they  lift  a  foot  ere 
the  hollow  it  had  formed  had  been  filled  with  snow. 
On  one  of  these  occasions  McTavish  asked : 

*'Who  is  this  Maria?" 

Peter  Rainy  did  not  seem  to  hear,  and  bent  down 
to  examine  the  dog-harness.  Donald  repeated  the 
question,  and  was  surprised  to  have  his  companion 
change  the  subject  without  answering.  There  was 
something  peculiar  about  this,  and  a  third  time  he 
put  the  query,  uttering  it  now  in  a  tone  of  authority. 

"  Captain,"  said  the  Indian,  "  I  would  rather  not 
tell  you.     It  would  only  make  you  unhappy." 

"  I'll  be  much  more  unhappy  if  I  know  there  is 
a  mystery,  without  knowing  what  it  Is.  Tell  me, 
Peter.    We  must  go  on  In  a  minute." 

"  Maria  is  the  mother  of  Charley  Seguis." 

"  Well,"  Donald  exclaimed  Impatiently,  as  the 
other  paused,  "  what's  so  terrible  about  that?  " 

"  Don't  you  remember  last  summer,  at  the  fort, 
that  he  was  there  all  the  time;  that  he  made  a  great 
show  with  his  cleverness  among  the  maidens,  but 
would  have  none  of  them?  And  why  would  he  not? 
Truly,  they  were  rare  Indian  maidens,  and  warm 
with  love,  but  his  eyes  were  elsewhere.  As  the  wolf 
looks  upward,  and  wishes  the  beautiful  white  moon, 
so  did  he  look  upward  and  desire  the  lovely  white 
daughter  of  the  factor." 

"What  are  you  telling  me,  you  devil?"  shouted 
McTavish,  his  eyes  blazing. 


112  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

The  old  Indian  did  not  move,  but  bent  slightly, 
as  though  expecting  a  blow. 

"  I  did  not  wish  to  tell  you.  Captain,"  he  said, 
with  dignity,  *'  but  you  forced  me.  Then,  too,  per- 
haps. It  Is  just  as  well  that  you  know  early  rather 
than  late.  Perhaps,  old  Maria  took  the  girl  just  for 
spite  of  old  FItzpatrlck.  I  hope  that  is  the  only 
reason." 

"  And  yet  —  and  yet  —  !  "  muttered  Donald  be- 
tween clenched  teeth.  His  tongue  refused  to  utter 
the  foul  alternative. 

Silent,  they  moved  out  In  the  storm  once  more, 
and  McTavIsh  bent  to  the  work  with  a  will.  It  was 
good  to  battle,  to  struggle  with  the  elements  on  this 
wild  night;  It  was  good  to  weary  himself  with  labor 
and  to  keep  his  mind  alert  with  the  changing  exigen- 
cies of  every  step.  Else,  he  should  be  beside  himself 
with  fear  and  Impotence. 

In  flashes,  he  pondered  on  what  he  had  heard: 
the  Indian  woman's  fruitless  visit  to  Fitzpatrick,  her 
relationship  to  Charley  Seguls,  her  sudden  abduction 
of  Jean.  There  was  something  about  these  things 
that  presented  to  his  understanding  a  wall  of  Insur- 
mountable height.  Then,  he  recalled  his  last  inter- 
view with  Jean  and  the  suspicions  that  had  been  cast 
upon  himself,  suspicions  he  had  vainly  endeavored 
to  fathom.  What  was  in  the  wind,  anyhow?  he 
asked  himself.  There  seemed  to  be  forces  at  work 
over  which  he  had  no  control,  forces  big  with  por- 
tent, heavy  with  menace.  Like  a  towering  thunder- 
cloud that  casts  its  sickly  green  over  all  about,  so 


A  HOT  SCENT  113 

these  unknown  influences  were  overshadowing  all  the 
lives  around  him. 

There  was  but  one  thing  to  do.  Probe  matters 
to  the  bottom,  force  the  issues,  and  drive  these  dis- 
quieting rumors  out  of  the  country.  But  how  to  ac- 
complish this?  There  was  but  one  answer  to  that 
question  in  Donald's  mind,  and  it  was  the  answer 
of  the  man  in  primitive  surroundings  thousands  of 
years  ago.  He  would  marry  Jean  Fitzpatrick  out 
of  hand,  and  then  start  asking  questions.  If  she  did 
not  yet  love  him,  she  would  learn  to;  if  her  father 
did  not  like  it,  he  would  have  to  make  the  best  of 
matters.  For  the  present,  Sturgeon  Lake  was  out 
of  the  question  for  Donald.  He  would  attend  to 
that  later.  Just  now,  Jean  was  in  danger  of  worse 
things  than  death,  and  needed  him.  He  would  de- 
vote his  attention  entirely  to  her. 

All  that  night.  Rainy,  McTavish,  and  the  dogs 
toiled  like  galley-slaves,  not  sure  of  their  exact  di- 
rection, but  aware  that  they  were  taking  a  general 
southerly  course  away  from  the  fort.  Morning 
found  them  fully  ten  miles  on  their  way,  with  no 
back  trail,  and  the  blizzard  lessening  perceptibly.  It 
did  not  matter  now.  Their  tracks  would  be  taken 
for  those  of  a  trapper  running  his  line. 

They  halted  for  breakfast  in  the  lee  of  a  bluff, 
just  as  a  muddy  light  made  itself  apparent. 

"  Shall  we  rest  now.  Captain?  "  asked  Rainy. 

But  Donald  said  no,  and  told  the  old  servant  his 
reasons  and  his  plans.  An  hour's  inactivity  repre- 
sented to  him  a  hundred  hideous  possibilities.    They 


114         THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

must  travel  fast  in  the  general  direction  of  Sturgeon 
Lake,  and  try  to  pick  up  the  trail  of  Maria,  the 
squaw.  ...  So,  after  an  hour,  they  pressed  on 
again,  finding  easier  traveling  and  making  better 
time. 

That  night  they  came  to  a  little  lake,  perhaps  a 
mile  wide,  and  on  the  opposite  shore  discerned  a 
wretched  shanty.  They  decided  to  camp  here,  for 
the  dogs  were  weak  with  exhaustion.  Rainy  attended 
to  the  unharnessing  of  the  animals  and  the  unpack- 
ing of  the  sledge,  while  Donald  went  out  to  cut  wood 
for  the  fire  and  boughs  to  sleep  on.  When  he  re- 
turned and  entered  the  cabin,  he  found  the  Indian 
examining  something  closely.  It  proved  to  be  a 
charred  ember.  Rainy  fingered  It  and  smelled  it, 
and  finally  announced  that  it  was  not  more  than  a 
day  old.  The  two  then  went  outside,  and  circled 
slowly  about  the  shanty. 

Here,  forty  miles  from  Fort  Severn,  the  blizzard 
had  been  light,  and  the  snowfall  trifling.  Presently, 
they  uncovered  faint  tracks  leading  away  southwest, 
and  judged,  from  the  edge  of  the  crust  where  the 
sledge  had  occasionally  broken  through,  that  they 
were  not  older  than  thirty-six  hours. 

Once  more,  the  mania  for  travel  seized  McTavish, 
and  he  was  all  for  setting  out  on  the  trail  that  night. 
But  Peter  Rainy  restrained  him,  showing  him  the 
folly  of  such  action,  since  both  dogs  and  men  were 
unfit  for  work. 

In  the  cabin,  at  one  time,  there  had  been  a  bunk. 
The  flat  shelf  still  projected  out  from  the  wall. 


A  HOT  SCENT  115 

Donald  entered  with  an  armful  of  spruce  boughs, 
and  threw  them  on  the  bunk.  While  he  was  arrang- 
ing them  to  a  semblance  of  smoothness  for  the 
blankets,  his  hand  struck  something  hard  and  cold. 
He  picked  the  object  up  and  held  it  to  the  light  of 
the  fire.  Then,  with  a  cry,  he  leaned  forward,  and 
examined  it  intently. 

It  was  a  bone  button  from  Jean  Fitzpatrick's  fur 
outer  garment. 

That  it  was  hers,  there  could  be  no  doubt,  for  the 
reason  that  in  the  very  center  was  a  tiny  raised  flag- 
pole and  flag,  the  latter  enameled  red  —  the  banner 
of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company.  The  buttons  were 
a  curiosity,  and  were  the  work  of  an  old  squaw  for 
whom  Jean  had  done  many  little  kindnesses. 

How  had  it  got  here?  There  was  but  one  ex- 
planation: Maria,  Tom,  her  full-blooded  Indian 
son,  and  Jean  had  occupied  this  lonely  cabin. 

"  Surely  it  is  hers,"  said  Peter  Rainy,  examining 
the  object.  *'  But  see,  Captain.  It's  now  six  days 
since  they  took  her  away.  The  trail  going  from  here 
was  made  day  before  yesterday.  Why  should  they 
have  stayed  here  so  long?  " 

"  I  don't  know  —  I  don't  know !  "  muttered  Don- 
ald, walking  up  and  down  outside  the  door  excitedly. 
**  But  we  have  no  other  clew;  we  must  follow  this 
one.  With  two  women  they  are  traveling  slowly. 
We  can  overtake  them." 

During  the  night,  the  sky  cleared,  and,  when 
McTavIsh  woke  after  several  hours  of  troubled 
sleep,  the  stars  were  bright.     It  was  four  o'clock; 


ii6  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

but  he  routed  out  his  whole  e  '.abllshment,  and  in 
less  than  an  hour  they  were  on  their  way,  so  that 
by  daylight  they  had  put  fifteen  miles  behind  them. 

They  traveled  as  they  had  never  done  before,  fol- 
lowing the  dim  trail  before  them  with  the  speed  and 
instinct  of  wild  things.  Tireless,  elastic,  winged  with 
snowshoes,  the  miles  flowed  under  them. 

At  eleven  oVlock,  they  came  upon  the  ruins  of  a 
camp-fire,  which  had  evidently  been  scattered  that 
morning,  and,  encouraged  by  this,  Donald  could 
barely  stop  to  make  tea.  The  afternoon  was  a  race 
with  darkness.  Could  he  have  done  so,  he  would 
have  commanded  the  sullen  sun  to  stand  still.  Now, 
with  a  vicious  cut  at  the  faltering  dogs,  now  with  a 
cry  of  encouragement  to  Peter  Rainy,  he  ran  on,  his 
shirt  open  at  the  front,  his  throat  bare. 

Hour  by  hour,  the  trail  grew  fresher.  Now,  they 
paused  at  the  open  glades  before  crossing  them. 
They  listened  for  the  jingle  of  bells  In  the  distance, 
and  took  their  own  off  the  harness,  an  act  that  nearly 
ended  their  day's  journey,  for  the  dogs  could  scarcely 
be  induced  to  travel  without  this  musical  accompani- 
ment.    Darkness,  at  last,  began  to  settle. 

Suddenly,  the  force  of  inspiration  that  had  held 
him  up  so  long,  deserted  the  young  man,  and  he 
wavered  where  he  stood,  shading  his  eyes  across  an 
open  space. 

"What  do  you  see,  Peter?"  he  gasped,  sitting 
down  abruptly,  for  very  weakness. 

The  Indian  stood  gazing  for  a  long  time  in  si- 
lence. 


A  HOT  SCENT  117 

"  Far  off,  I  see  a  shanty  and  a  dog-train  in  front 
of  It,"  he  said,  slowly.  "  And,  now,  I  see  smoke 
coming  from  the  chimney." 

"How  many  people  are  there?"  cried  Donald 
excitedly,  getting  to  his  feet  again.  "  Tell  me, 
quick!     How  many?" 

"  That  I  cannot  see,"  answered  the  Indian,  after 
a  moment's  piercing  scrutiny. 

"  Mush !  Mush  on !  "  cried  McTavish,  curling 
the  long  whip  over  the  dogs'  backs,  and  once  more 
the  mad  race  was  under  way. 

Over  the  smooth,  glazed  crust,  into  low,  powdery 
drifts,  under  windfalls  or  around  them,  down  the  for- 
est aisles,  or  across  bare,  open  spaces,  they  whirled, 
the  men  at  a  tireless,  gliding  lope,  the  dogs  at  a  fast 
trot. 

Nearer  came  the  shanty  and  its  curl  of  smoke. 
Now,  it  was  but  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  and  the 
going  was  all  down-hill  and  clear.  The  men  jumped 
aboard  the  sledge,  and  called  to  the  dogs,  which  re- 
sponded by  breaking  into  a  gallop.  Thus  silently, 
without  bells,  the  equipage  descended  upon  the  un- 
known travelers  in  the  shanty. 

A  hundred  yards  away,  the  strange  dogs  sounded 
the  alarm,  and,  ten  seconds  later,  Donald's  team  was 
engaged  in  a  free  fight  that  threatened  to  put  an 
end  to  every  strip  of  harness. 

While  Peter  Rainy  stayed  to  separate  the  com- 
batants, Donald  sprang  off,  and  rushed  ahead  to  the 
shanty.  At  that  moment,  two  persons  stepped  out 
of  the  door,  a  man  and  a  woman. 


ii8  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

Even  at  fifty  yards,  there  could  be  no  doubt  as  to 
their  identity:  They  were  the  old  hag  Maria  and 
her  Indian  son,  Tom. 


CHAPTER  XII 

MARIA  TAKES  ACTION 

**/^  OOD-EVENING,"  said  Donald,  courteously, 

VJ  In  the  Ojibway  tongue.  With  all  his  Impa- 
tience, he  knew  better  than  to  be  precipitate.  Tom 
and  Maria  responded  in  kind  to  his  salutation,  and 
the  usual  amenities  of  those  who  find  themselves  at  a 
camping-place  together  were  exchanged.  Of  course, 
the  newcomers  would  not  think  of  occupying  the 
cabin,  since  the  others  had  reached  it  first,  even 
though  Donald's  rank  in  the  Hudson  Bay  Company 
entitled  him  to  the  best  to  be  had. 

They  were  fortunate,  he  said.  In  the  locating  of 
such  an  admirable  shelter;  in  fact,  it  was  one  of  the 
best  he  had  seen,  warm,  well  made,  with  room  for 
the  dogs.  Whose  was  it?  They  told  him  an  Indian 
name,  and  he  continued  his  complimentary  talk,  ap- 
proaching the  door  all  the  time. 

Truly,  this  good  Indian  would  have  to  be  recom- 
mended to  the  factor  for  keeping  his  place  in  such 
fine  order.  See !  Even  the  door  fitted  in  its  frame, 
and  did  not  sag  on  its  hinges  when  he  opened  it. 
There  would  be  —    He  entered. 

The  monologue  suddenly  ceased,  and,  after  a 
silent  moment,  a  groan  from  the  heart  of  the  agon- 
ized man  came  to  the  ears  of  those  outside.     Pres- 

"9 


120         THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

ently,  he  emerged,  white  and  wretched-looking,  his 
face  drawn  with  weariness  and  disappointment. 

Yet,  in  his  eyes  there  was  something  that  made 
the  two  rascally  Ojibways  shift  uneasily.  Donald 
was  not  sure  whether  or  not  he  had  heard  a  smoth- 
ered snicker,  during  the  moment  that  he  found  him- 
self alone  in  the  cabin,  but  he  intended  to  find  out. 

"  Tom,"  he  said,  "  where  are  the  hunting-grounds 
to  which  you  are  going?  " 

''  By  Beaver  Lake." 

"  You  are  much  too  far  south  to  be  on  the  way 
to  Beaver  Lake.  Something  else  has  brought  you 
here." 

"  My  mother  is  getting  old;  she  prefers  to  travel 
the  forest,  and  not  the  muskeg  trails.  For  that  we 
came  south." 

"  Every  other  winter,  she  has  traveled  them 
safely,  Tom.    Something  else  has  brought  you  here." 

"  I  swear  it  is  not  so,  Captain,"  said  the  Indian,  in 
a  tone  of  defiance  rather  than  of  humility — a  tone 
that  proved  him  untruthful  then  and  there. 

"  You  He,  Tom  Seguis !  "  cried  McTavish  fiercely. 
All  the  disappointments  of  the  day  leaped  into  rage 
at  this  provoking  answer. 

"  If  I  do,  I  learned  it  from  white  men,"  came  the 
insulting  answer. 

Inasmuch  as  the  only  white  men  of  his  acquaint- 
ance were  Hudson  Bay  officials,  this  constituted  a 
slurring  piece  of  impudence  that  demanded  instant 
retribution. 

Without  a  word,  Donald  slipped  the  gloves  from 


MARIA  TAKES  ACTION  121 

his  hands,  and  leaped  upon  Tom,  smashing  him  to 
right  and  left  with  one  well-directed  blow  after  the 
other.  The  Indian  was  unarmed,  and  no  match  for 
the  captain.  But  not  so  his  mother.  Almost  im- 
perceptibly, the  leering  hag  crept  closer  to  the  com- 
bat, one  hand  glued  to  her  side. 

So  Intent  was  she  In  watching  for  an  opening  that 
she  did  not  hear  Peter  Rainy  approaching.  Sud- 
denly, Tom,  thrusting  out  his  fists  in  desperation 
from  the  merciless  beating,  caught  his  assailant  under 
the  chin,  and  halted  him  a  second.  In  that  second, 
the  old  hag  sprang,  the  cold  steel  glinting  in  her 
hand. 

But  Peter,  with  a  shout,  was  upon  her,  wrenching 
away  the  weapon  and  hurling  her,  squawking,  toward 
the  cabin,  where,  cursing  like  a  medicine-man,  she 
searched  blindly  for  a  rifle  until  Rainy  took  tjhat 
also  away  from  her,  and  shut  her  in  the  cabin. 
Meanwhile,  the  thrashing  of  Tom  went  method- 
ically on,  until  he  was  unable  to  rise  from  the  snow, 
and  could  scarcely  bawl  an  apology  between  his 
swollen,  bleeding  lips. 

Such  is  the  discipline  of  a  region  where  law  is  a 
remote  thing,  and  the  mention  of  a  narne  must  carry 
terror  for  thousands  of  miles. 

McTavIsh,  as  he  punished  Indian  Tom  with  merci- 
less severity,  was  no  longer  McTavIsh.  He  was  the 
Company;  he  was  discipline;  he  was  the  "  inevitable 
white  man.''  And,  by  the  same  token,  Tom  was  the 
conquered  race  that  had  dared  to  doubt  the  power  of 
its  conqueror.    This  battle  in  the  snow  enacted  the 


122         THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

drama  of  America's  Siberia  as  it  has  been  enacted  for 
two  hundred  years. 

Tom  not  only  delivered  himself  of  an  apology  at 
Donald's  demand,  but  expressed  a  willingness,  even  a 
desire,  to  atone  for  his  wrong-doing  by  telling  the 
truth  of  the  matter  that  had  given  rise  to  the  trouble. 
Having  the  situation  well  in  hand,  the  Hudson  Bay 
man  set  Peter  to  making  the  camp  outside,  while  he 
entered  the  cabin  with  Tom. 

"Where  is  the  factor's  daughter?"  he  fiercely 
demanded. 

"  She  left  us  two  days  ago,"  mumbled  the  Indian. 

"  And  you  will  never  see  her  again,"  snarled 
Maria,  crouching  before  the  fire. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"  Ha,  ha !  She  is  in  good  company.  She  has  a 
man  now  —  a  good  man  —  a  man  such  as  a  woman 
ought  to  love,"  croaked  the  venomous  crone,  glaring. 

"  In  heaven's  name,  speak  out,  old  woman ! 
Who's  she  with?" 

"  Charley  Seguls.  He  is  a  good  man.  The 
women  all  love  him."  And  she  rocked  herself  to 
and  fro,  like  some  horrible  old  witch.  Donald  stared 
at  her,  wild-eyed. 

"  When  did  he  get  her?  "  he  groaned.  "  How? 
Where?" 

**  Two  days  ago,  at  the  other  cabin,"  broke  in 
Tom,  hastily.  "  We  waited  for  him  there,  and  he 
came  and  got  her." 

"  Was  there  anyone  with  him,  or  did  he  come 
alone?" 


MARIA  TAKES  ACTION  123 

"  Two  others,  an  Indian  and  a  French  trapper," 
was  the  answer. 

"Where  did  they  go?"  The  little,  close  cabin 
seemed  to  reel  about  the  distraught  lover. 

"  To  Sturgeon  Lake." 

"  The  truth!  "  cried  Donald,  frantically.  "  Tell 
me  the  truth,  or,  by  heaven,  I'll  break  every  bone  In 
your  body !  "  With  hands  opening  and  closing  con- 
vulsively, he  advanced  upon  Tom. 

But  the  latter  had  had  enough,  and  he  cowered 
away  from  his  interrogator,  protesting  his  good 
faith.  So  genuine  were  his  terrified  protestations 
that  the  questioner  was  convinced. 

"  But  he  shall  have  her,  Charley  Seguis  shall  have 
her,"  chanted  old  Maria,  still  rocking  to  and  fro. 

McTavish,  sick  at  heart  and  at  a  loss  what  to  do 
next,  went  out  of  the  cabin  and  over  to  the  camp  that 
Rainy  had  made  In  the  snow  near  the  foot  of  a  big 
tree.  There,  he  told  the  old  Indian  what  he  had 
learned,  and  appealed  to  him  for  counsel.  For  an 
hour,  the  latter  kept  silent,  and  in  that  time  they 
fed  the  dogs,  and  cooked  their  own  supper  of  fish, 
flat  flour  cakes,  and  tea.  At  last,  when  all  was  done 
and  the  young  man's  spirits  had  risen  with  the 
strength  the  hot  food  brought  him,  Peter  Rainy 
spoke. 

**  These  people  have  done  wrong,"  he  said,  in- 
dicating the  shanty.  "  They  must  be  punished. 
They  must  go  back  to  Fort  Severn  to  hear  the  fac- 
tor's judgment.  One  of  us  must  take  them.  It 
should  not  be  you;  your  heart  yearns  onward  for  the 


124  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

thing  that  is  dearest  to  it,  and  you  must  follow  that 
call. 

"  Give  me  authority,  and  I  will  take  them  back, 
so  they  can  make  no  more  trouble.  Tom  is  a  good 
Indian,  except  with  his  mother.  Him  I  trust,  but 
that  old  squaw'*  —  he  shook  his  head  gravely  — 
*'  if  she  lived  on  the  plains,  she  would  cut  down  a 
burial-tree  to  build  a  fire.  That's  the  kind  she  is. 
I'll  not  feel  safe  until  she's  in  jail." 

"  If  you  are  going  back  with  them,"  broke  in 
Donald,  "  you  can  use  their  dog-train,  and  I'll  keep 
this  one." 

"It  is  Buller's,  and  should  be  at  Fort  Dickey," 
Rainy  replied.  "  Cardepie's  is  the  only  one  left 
there  now.    But  there's  no  other  way,  I  guess." 

"  None.  And,  Peter,  we  must  set  watch  to-night, 
so  they  can't  escape  us.  Four  hours  on  and  off;  I'll 
stand  the  first  one." 

"  Master,  you  are  very  weary,  and  need  sleep, 
for  we  have  traveled  far.    Let  me  watch  first." 

But  Donald  respected  the  years  of  his  companion, 
and  gently  maintained  his  purpose.  When  they  were 
ready  for  the  night,  he  went  to  the  cabin,  and  placed 
Maria  and  Tom  under  arrest.  Before  taking  his 
watch,  he  tore  a  page  from  his  note-book,  and  wrote 
a  signed  statement,  authorizing  Peter  Rainy  as 
deputy  to  conduct  the  Indians  to  Fort  Severn. 

Building  a  fire  before  the  cabin  door,  he  began 
walking  up  and  down,  fighting  desperately  the  almost 
overpowering  sleep  that  weighed  upon  his  eyelids. 
Doubly  exhausted  by  the  day's  efforts  and  disclosures, 


MARIA  TAKES  ACTION  125 

every  moment  was  a  renewed  struggle,  and  every 
hour  an  eternity. 

A  rising  wind  roared  with  hollow  sound  among 
the  trees,  and  drove  the  snow-powder  into  his  face. 
The  stars,  glinting  diamonds  in  the  blue-black  vault 
over-head,  twinkled  and  coruscated  with  brittle  fires. 
Now  and  then,  a  report  like  a  rifle  stabbed  the  still- 
ness when  a  tree  cracked  with  its  freezing  sap.  .  .  . 
Donald  sat  down  on  a  log. 

His  mind  was  filled  with  bitter  thoughts,  and  he 
remembered  for  the  first  time  that  he  was  in  reality 
nothing  but  an  escaped  prisoner.  But  all  that  trou- 
ble could  be  attended  to  later.  It  had  sunk  into  in- 
significance beside  the  hideous  verities  that  the  day 
had  revealed. 

Into  his  mind  flashed  a  picture  of  Jean  as  he  had 
seen  her  last.  The  sweet,  virginal  face,  the  red- 
bronze  aureole  of  her  soft  hair,  the  gray  wool  dress 
with  touches  of  red  warming  it  at  throat  and  waist 
and  wrist  —  all  these  were  in  the  picture. 

Would  he  ever  see  her  again  as  she  had  been  that 
bitter  day?  Would  there  be  something  gone  from 
that  innocent  face,  some  of  its  sweet  purity?  Or 
would  there  be  something  added,  a  flicker  of  eternal 
fear  in  the  wide,  blue  eyes,  or  the  stamp  of  hell 
across  the  fair  brow?  The  face  merged  slowly  into 
a  general  indistinctness  until  with  a  shock  it  all 
cleared  away,  and  he  felt  a  sharp  pain  in  the  back 
of  his  neck. 

Then  he  realized  that  sleep  had  stolen  upon  him 
and  that  his  head  had  rolled  forward  uncontrolled. 


126  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

With  a  curse,  he  sat  up  and  looked  at  his  watch. 
Two  hours  yet  before  he  could  call  Peter  Rainy.  He 
put  some  more  wood  on  the  fire,  but  dared  not  look 
at  the  fascination  of  the  dancing  flames.  He  felt  a 
sort  of  resentment  that  these  two  dirty  Indians  must 
be  watched,  and  so  break  into  his  much  needed  rest. 
He  riveted  his  attention  upon  the  stars,  and  began 
to  name  over  the  constellations  he  could  see.  There 
was  the  Great  Bear,  the  trapper's  timepiece  in  the 
wilderness ;  and  there,  almost  directly  above  him  and 
very  bright,  the  North  Star,  the  hunter's  compass. 
Then,  there  was  the  Big  Dipper,  very  high,  and  the 
Little  Bear.  Southerly,  through  the  trees,  and  look- 
ing like  an  arc-lamp  suspended  there,  Sirius  gleamed, 
while  very  low  and  to  the  left  was  the  belt  of  Orion. 

Suddenly,  the  entire  solar  system  described  violent 
circles  of  fire  before  his  eyes,  and  a  dull  shock 
seemed  to  shake  him.  He  knew  something  was 
wrong,  and  strove  to  gain  his  feet,  or  cry  out,  before 
it  was  too  late.  But,  in  an  instant,  he  realized  that 
he  was  powerless  to  move,  and,  in  the  next,  the 
whirling  constellations  gave  place  to  utter,  velvet 
blackness. 

When  he  struggled  back  to  consciousness,  the  first 
thing  Donald  sensed  was  that  something  pleasantly 
warm  lay  upon  his  face.  After  a  while,  he  discov- 
ered that  this  gentle  glow  must  be  from  the  sun. 

"  How's  this?  "  he  said  to  himself.  "  The  whole 
camp  must  have  slept  late,"  and  he  struggled  to  a 
sitting  posture,  only  to  give  vent  to  a  groan  of 
agony. 


MARIA  TAKES  ACTION  127 

His  head  throbbed  and  pained  him  horribly,  and 
he  pressed  his  hand  to  the  aching  place  only  to  find 
that  a  huge  bruise  and  swelling  had  appeared  over- 
night. Then,  disjointed  thoughts  began  to  link  them- 
selves together,  and  his  addled  brain  cleared  itself 
with  a  violent  effort.  He  looked  about  starlngly, 
and  took  In  the  scene:  the  cabin,  the  hole  where 
Peter  had  camped,  his  own  fire. 

"Nobody's  here,''  he  said,  blankly;  "that's 
funny." 

Flashes  of  half-truth  commenced  to  lighten  the 
darkness  of  his  mind,  and  he  pressed  his  hands 
against  his  temples  hard,  telling  himself  not  to  go 
mad  —  that  everything  would  come  out  all  right. 
.No  one  was  in  sight,  the  fires  were  almost  dead,  the 
cabin  door  was  open,  so  that  he  could  see  that  the 
place  was  unoccupied.  Then,  he  looked  for  stars, 
and  laughed,  because  the  sun  was  up. 

But  the  thought  of  the  stars  set  him  on  the  right 
track,  and,  closing  his  jaws  tightly  on  the  fear  that 
now  took  possession  of  him,  he  staggered  about 
from  one  spot  to  another,  working  out  the  situation 
piece  by  piece.  At  last,  the  whole  truth  and  every 
event  of  the  day  and  night  before  came  back  to  him 
with  a  rush.  He  sat  down  abruptly,  and  dry  sobs 
shook  him.  .  .  .  He  was  weary  and  hungry  and 
weak,  but  his  mind  was  clear  again,  and  he  thanked 
God  for  that.  So  near  had  he  come  to  concussion 
of  the  brain  from  old  Maria's  vicious  club ! 

When  he  had  recovered  a  little,  he  made  another 
circuit  of  the  camp.    Like  a  child  in  the  midst  of  a 


128  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

group  of  grinning  wolves,  he  was  helpless  in  the  cen- 
ter of  absolute  desolation.  Neither  dog,  sledge, 
food,  nor  covering  had  they  left  him.  He  was 
stripped  of  everything  except  a  hunting-knife,  which 
he  luckily  wore  beneath  his  caribou  shirt.  Like  An- 
dree  stepping  from  his  balloon  in  the  snowy  arctic 
wastes,  McTavish  might  have  been  dropped  solitary 
where  he  was  by  some  huge,  passing  bird. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A  RESCUE  AND  A  SURPRISE 

THERE  was  in  Donald,  as  in  all  who  battle  with 
the  monstrous  moods  of  nature,  a  certain  calm 
fatalism,  or  acceptance  of  the  inevitable.  When  he 
had  recovered  his  self-possession  and  the  full  use  of 
his  faculties,  he  got  to  his  feet  again,  and  made  a 
second  inspection  of  the  camp.  As  he  had  noted  at 
first,  the  place  was  stripped  clean.  An  old  bit  of 
moose-gut,  which  had  evidently  been  taken  from  a 
worn  snowshoe,  was  the  only  thing  to  be  found  in  the 
shanty.  The  string  was  some  six  feet  long,  and  Mc- 
Tavish,  with  the  trapper's  instinct  of  hoarding  every 
possible  Item,  rolled  it  up  and  put  it  in  his  pocket. 
Of  food  there  was  none;  Maria  had  done  her  best 
to  put  him  beyond  the  need  of  sustenance,  but,  now 
that  he  was  himself  once  more,  the  yearning  to  eat 
seized  his  vitals,  and  he  knew  he  must  make  all  haste 
to  satisfy  it.  When  he  was  struck,  his  snowshoes 
had  been  on  his  feet,  and  the  Indians  in  their  haste, 
or  because  of  the  darkness,  had  not  removed  them, 
so  he  had  this  slight  help  in  the  problems  he  faced. 
Suddenly,  something  caught  McTavish's  ear  as  he 
stood  listening,  a  sort  of  rushing,  roaring  sound  like 
waters,  yet  muffled  as  though  coming  from  a  canon. 
Having  no  pocket  compass,  he  had  to  find  directions 

129 


130  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

by  the  moss  at  the  foot  of  a  tree.  As  he  dug  with 
a  snowshoe,  the  end  of  the  racket  struck  something 
hard.  With  an  effort,  he  rolled  this  up  to  view,  and 
found  it  to  be  the  shoulder-blade  of  a  bear,  smooth 
and  white,  when  cleaned  of  the  snow  and  leaves  that 
clung  to  it. 

An  idea  now  took  possession  of  him,  and,  when 
he  had  got  his  bearings,  he  listened  again  for  the 
sound  of  muffled  waters,  then  followed  whither  his 
ears  led  him.  Now  and  then,  the  bulk  of  a  rock  or 
a  bend  of  the  stream  itself  would  deceive  him,  and 
it  was  nearly  a  half-hour  before  he  came  to  the 
slightly  raised  banks  of  a  little  river,  perhaps  a  hun- 
dred feet  in  width.  Here,  the  noise  of  waters  was 
very  loud,  and  he  realized  what  it  was. 

While  most  streams  turn  gradually  into  solid 
blocks  of  ice,  miles  long,  there  are  some  whose  ex- 
tremely swift  current  and  turbulent  rapids  prevent 
anything  but  a  thin  coat  forming  across  from  shore 
to  shore.  Beneath  this  green  shell,  the  water  roars 
and  tumbles  all  winter,  except  perhaps  in  the  most 
terrible  weather.  Such  was  the  stream  upon  which 
Donald  had  come.  He  felt  that  luck  was  with  him, 
and  the  idea  that  had  taken  possession  of  him  back 
in  the  woods  returned.  From  his  left  pocket,  he 
drew  forth  the  shoulder-blade  of  the  bear,  and  un- 
limbered  his  knife  from  beneath  his  shirt.  Fortu- 
nately, this  had  been  a  small  bear,  and  the  work  be- 
fore him  did  not  represent  more  than  an  hour's  time. 
Meanwhile,  his  stomach  clamored  for  food,  and  he 
set  his  jaws  resolutely.    In  the  forest  it  is  truer  than 


A  RESCUE  AND  A  SURPRISE        131 

elsewhere  that  haste  makes  waste,  and,  as  materials 
are  rare  and  valuable,  patience  is  the  trapper's  stock 
in  trade. 

McTavish  sat  down  on  the  bank,  and  carved 
busily  until  the  bone  between  his  hands  took  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  fish-hook,  barb  and  all.  Then  he  un- 
laced his  moccasins,  and  tied  the  strings  together, 
adding  to  this  line  the  moose-gut  he  had  found  in 
the  shanty.  A  flat  stone  with  a  small  hole  in  it  re- 
warded fifteen  minutes*  prowling  along  the  banks, 
and  this  he  used  as  a  sinker,  tying  a  knot  beneath 
the  hole.  A  rod  was  easily  procured,  and  for  bait 
he  took  a  piece  of  the  red  flannel  that  lined  his  leg- 
gings. 

Next,  he  built  a  fire  on  top  of  the  bank,  and 
lastly  chopped  through  three  inches  of  ice,  a  quarter 
of  the  way  across  the  stream,  where  he  dropped  his 
line.  He  did  not  have  to  wait  long.  Fish,  like 
everything  else  in  the  northern  winter,  find  food- 
stuffs rare  and  costly,  and  scarcely  ten  minutes  had 
passed  before  a  three-pound  trout  lay  flopping  on 
the  ice  beside  him. 

Considerately  waiting  until  it  was  dead,  the  Hud- 
son Bay  man  cleaned  it,  and  thrust  it  on  forked  sticks 
to  cook  over  the  fire  while  he  went  on  fishing. 

Before  the  first  savory  whiffs  reached  him  four 
more  trout  had  eagerly  taken  the  bait.  Presently, 
he  left  work  at  the  hole,  and  returned  to  the  fire, 
where  he  enjoyed  the  most  life-giving  meal  he  had 
ever  eaten,  excepting  the  first  after  Peter  Rainy's  res- 
cue of  him.     The  thought  projected  Rainy  into  his 


132  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

mind,  and  for  the  hundredth  time  he  asked  himself 
what  had  become  of  the  old  Indian. 

The  only  possible  explanation  to  offer  Itself  was 
that  Maria  and  Tom  had  first  disposed  of  their 
sleeping  warder,  and  had  then  crawled  up  on  Rainy, 
who  was  sleeping  like  a  log,  bound  him,  and  taken 
him  away  on  the  sledge,  leaving  McTavIsh  either  to 
die  as  he  lay,  or  within  a  few  days  after  awakening. 

Well,  Donald  admitted,  the  chances  were  against 
him,  and  the  outlook  was  indeed  dark.  But,  even 
in  these  desperate  straits,  there  was  a  buoyancy  in 
his  spirits  that  he  had  seldom  enjoyed.  Life  seemed 
good  while  he  was  yet  alive  to  fight  for  It;  he  had 
youth,  strength,  hope,  and  the  spur  of  deeds  to  be 
done,  all  of  which  roweled  his  faith  whenever  it 
faltered.  Even  this  morning,  he  felt  unaccountably 
like  flinging  his  arms  Into  the  air,  and  shouting  to 
the  desolation: 

*'  Come  on,  old  wilderness,  we'll  fight  It  out,  and, 
by  heaven,  I'll  break  you,  too !  "  .  .  .  What  was  it, 
this  buoyancy  of  soul?     Did  It  portend  anything? 

Hark!  What  was  that?  Through  the  clear,  thin 
air  came  the  sound  of  silvery  bells,  clink,  clink,  a-tin- 
kle-inkle,  clink-a-tinkle,  clink,  clink,  zs  the  dogs  trot- 
ted on  some  distant  trail.  Were  they  approaching? 
Five  minutes  later,  Donald  was  sure  they  were,  and 
with  a  few  swift  kicks  scattered  his  fire.  Then,  he 
ran  down  to  the  water's  edge,  and  removed  his  fish 
and  home-made  line,  finally  retreating  up  the  bank 
to  a  vantage-point  behind  a  bushy  tree.    Too  many 


A  RESCUE  AND  A  SURPRISE        133 

persons  were  anxious  to  lay  hands  on  him  for  him  to 
greet  the  unknown  voyager  with  open  arms. 

The  banks  of  the  stream  in  front  of  him  were 
perhaps  ten  feet  high  and  sloped  sharply  to  the 
water's  edge,  fairly  free  from  tangle.  Presently, 
McTavish  localized  the  sound  of  bells  as  coming 
from  the  opposite  bank,  and  expected  to  watch  the 
equipage,  preceded  or  accompanied  by  trapper  or 
hunter,  speed  past,  following  the  direction  of  the 
stream.  What  was  his  surprise,  therefore,  suddenly 
to  see  a  huge,  fine-looking  dog  top  the  opposite  shore 
and  start  down  the  Incline  to  the  ice,  followed  in 
turn  by  three  others.  Then  came  the  sledge,  and  on 
it  the  driver  of  the  train. 

McTavish's  attention  was  now  suddenly  riveted 
to  the  first  dog.  There  was  a  perfectly  white  arrow- 
head marked  in  the  dark-brown  hair  above  his  eyes, 
and  all  four  feet  were  white.  Aside  from  this 
there  was  a  certain  dignity  in  the  animal's  carriage 
that  marked  him  at  once.  McTavish  almost  leaped 
from  his  cover. 

It  was  Mistisi,  the  leader  of  his  own  train.  Yes ! 
and  those  others  were  his,  Chibe  and  Keoha  and 
Commish.  Who,  then,  was  the  person  in  the  sleigh? 
With  startled  eyes,  he  tried  to  discover  the  face 
and  figure  huddled  under  the  mass  of  robes,  but 
could  not. 

There  was  only  one  person  it  might  be,  only  one 
person  who  could  possibly  be  using  his  dogs  after  the 
adventure  at  Sturgeon  Lake  —  Charley  Seguis.    But 


134  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

what  was  he  doing  here?     Where  were  his  com- 
rades?   Where  was  Jean? 

Breathlessly,  for  he  felt  his  peril  to  be  very  great, 
Donald  watched  the  magnificent  team  and  sledge 
plunge  down  the  bank  to  the  river.  He  only  prayed 
that  the  rider  might  not  see  the  hole  he  had  cut  in 
the  ice. 

With  a  creak  and  lurch,  the  sleigh  left  the  grade, 
and  took  the  white  snow  edging  the  shoal  water  that 
led  out  to  the  deep  green  of  the  middle  ice.  The 
watcher  drew  a  sharp  breath. 

"  Great  heavens !  Doesn't  the  fool  know  that's 
thin  ice?  "  he  muttered,  excitedly.  "  Does  he  want 
to  drown?  '* 

It  all  happened  in  a  moment.  There  was  a  crunch, 
a  cracking,  a  sound  of  plunging,  and  the  dogs  went 
into  the  biting  water.  Another  second,  and  the 
sledge  careened  and  settled  among  the  jagged  pieces 
of  Ice  that  surrounded  it  on  all  sides.  The  figure 
rolled  off  with  a  cry. 

What  should  he  do?  Here  was  the  opportunity 
to  let  nature  end  the  feud  between  Seguis  and  him- 
self. The  man's  bitter  punishment  was  overtaking 
him  alone  amid  the  grim  watchers  of  the  wild.  Why 
not  let  the  tragedy  go  on  to  its  inevitable  close  ?  All 
this  in  an  Instant.  Then,  the  law  of  humanity  laid 
hold  on  Donald;  the  command  of  the  wilderness 
that  drives  men  through  unheard-of  perils  to  an- 
other's help. 

With  a  shout,  he  leaped  from  his  cover,  sped 
down  the  bank,  and  out  upon  the  frozen  river.    The 


A  RESCUE  AND  A  SURPRISE        135 

dogs,  tangled  in  their  harness,  were  fighting  their 
own  last  battle,  while  drifting  down-stream,  strug- 
gling against  the  deadly  haul  of  the  sledge  that 
dragged  them  under.  The  fur-wrapped  figure 
showed  now  and  then,  rolling  amid  the  jagged  ice. 

A  hundred  feet  away,  a  point  ran  out  Into  the 
water.  The  fighting  dogs  would  be  there  In  a  mo- 
ment, for  MIstlsI,  In  his  desperate  attempts  to  climb 
upon  the  frail  support,  broke  the  Ice  In  front  of  him 
with  his  powerful  forepaws.  Donald  ran  with  all 
his  strength,  and  reached  the  point  just  as  MIstIsi 
came  abreast.  Because  farthest  from  the  sledge, 
the  great  animal  was  still  alive,  but  the  others  had 
either  disappeared,  or  were  lying  on  their  sides, 
dead.  Seizing  the  harness,  Donald  lifted  the  dog, 
and  with  two  swift  slashes  cut  the  traces.  Then, 
with  a  mighty  effort,  he  heaved  MIstIsi  out  of  the 
water  beside  him  on  the  point. 

Presently,  the  human  form,  struggling  no  longer, 
floated  down,  and  the  man  seized  It.  A  moment 
more,  and  It,  too,  lay  beside  the  exhausted  dog  on 
the  bank.  A  quick  glance  assured  him  that  he  could 
do  nothing  for  the  other  animals,  and  he  turned  his 
attention  to  the  inert,  unconscious  body.  He  folded 
back  the  capote^  and  uttered  a  great  cry  of  joy  and 
fear.  .  .  .  For  he  looked  into  the  face  of  Jean  Fitz- 
patrlck ! 

Now  he  worked  like  a  madman,  for,  even  If  she 
had  escaped  drowning,  she  might  freeze  to  death 
where  she  lay.  Stripping  off  his  gloves,  he  thrust 
the  fingers  of  his  right  hand  into  her  mouth,  and 


136  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

seized  her  tongue.  This  he  pulled  forward,  so  as 
to  leave  the  air  passage  free.  Then,  roughly,  he 
rolled  her  over  on  her  face  and,  holding  her  by 
the  belt,  lifted  her  so  that  the  water  ran,  out  of  her 
lungs. 

Laying  her  on  her  back  again,  he  started  artificial 
respiration.  At  the  first  convulsive  gasp  and  shud- 
der, he  left  her  and  frantically  gathered  wood  for  a 
fire.  This  time,  it  was  no  trapper's  flame  of  chips 
he  wanted,  but  a  roaring  blaze,  which  would  melt 
the  sheath  of  ice  that  had  already  formed  on  Jean's 
clothes,  and  dry  them  thoroughly.  The  whining 
of  MIstisI  told  him  that  the  dog,  too,  was  clad  in 
the  like  chill  armor. 

Every  other  minute,  Donald  returned,  and  again 
worked  over  Jean,  so  that,  when  the  fire  had  begun 
to  crackle  and  give  out  heat,  he  saw  the  upturned 
eyes  swim  down,  and  the  blessed  look  of  conscious- 
ness take  the  place  of  terrible  blankness.  Then,  with 
a  sob  of  joy,  he  gathered  her  in  his  arms,  and  laid 
her  down  In  the  zone  of  llfe-glving  heat.  Forthwith, 
he  hurried  back  to  his  hiding-place  for  one  of  the 
fish. 

A  sound  of  choked  weeping  drew  Donald  again 
to  the  girl,  and  he  saw  that  she  recognized  him  now. 
He  lifted  her  head  tenderly,  comforting  her  as  he 
would  a  child,  and  presently  felt  her  arms  go  round 
him  in  a  desperate  embrace  of  fear  and  thankfulness. 
After  a  long  while  of  silence,  he  spoke. 

"  Jean,"  he  said,  "  do  you  know  who  this  is?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  simply,  and  he  thrilled  at  the 


A  RESCUE  AND  A  SURPRISE        137 

sound  of  the  voice  he  loved.  "  Thank  God,  I  am 
with  you,  at  last,"  she  added. 

And  the  man  felt  that  this  one  minute  and  her 
few  words  more  than  repaid  all  the  suffering  and  in- 
justice he  had  undergone  In  the  weeks  past.  From 
the  leaden  sky,  a  beauty  seemed  to  have  dropped 
that  glorified  the  accursed  earth,  the  rock-like  trees 
and  the  bitter,  iron  cold.  In  the  springtime  of  his 
heart,  he  seemed  to  smell  the  fragrance  of  flowers, 
hear  the  music  of  rippling  waters,  and  feel  the  caress 
of  gentle  airs. 

When  she  was  herself  again,  Donald  cooked  the 
fish.  At  this  time,  too,  he  celebrated  his  reunioa 
with  MIstlsI  who,  being  almost  pure  St.  Bernard, 
recognized  his  master  with  such  manifestations  of 
extreme  joy  that,  for  a  time,  there  was  ground  for 
fear  as  to  the  animal's  sanity.  But  the  dog  had 
brains  enough  not  to  wander  outside  the  fire-zone  in 
his  dripping  condition,  and  stood  steaming  joyfully 
and  contentedly  beside  Jean,  his  face  a  mask  of 
idiotic  happiness. 

During  the  meal,  Donald  drew  the  girPs  story 
from  her. 

It  seemed  that,  after  Charley  Seguls  had  made  the 
junction  with  Maria  and  Tom  at  the  cabin,  he  had 
treated  her  with  courtesy,  but,  firmly  declined  to  let 
her  go,  saying  that  she  was  a  most  necessary  person 
to  his  camp,  since  his  fight  was  with  her  father.  The 
following  day,  the  party  of  four,  herself,  Seguls,  and 
the  French  and  Indian  trappers,  had  started  back  to 
Sturgeon  Lake.     She  received  every  attention  and 


138  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

kindness  from  all  of  them.  In  fact,  It  was  this  that 
precipitated  the  trouble,  for  the  Frenchman  and  the 
Indian  sought  her  favor  continually,  and  became  In- 
sanely jealous  of  each  other,  although  she  treated 
both  with  coldest  courtesy. 

One  night,  when  they  stopped  to  make  camp,  mat- 
ters came  to  a  head.  The  sledge  had  not  yet  been 
unloaded,  when  the  trappers  got  Into  a  violent  argu- 
ment, and,  without  warning,  drew  their  knives  and 
went  at  each  other.  Jean  screamed,  and  Charley 
Seguls  leaped  in  to  prevent  bloodshed.  .  .  .  Then, 
the  girl  saw  her  opportunity,  and  seized  It.  She  was 
still  sitting  on  the  sledge.  With  a  shrill  cry  and  a 
crack  of  the  whip  that  lay  under  her  hand,  she  started 
the  dogs  off  on  a  gallop.  Instantly,  all  personalities 
were  forgotten  and  the  three  men  gave  hot  chase. 
But,  coming  to  a  river-bed,  the  girl  soon  lost  her 
pursuers  in  the  distance,  and,  after  traveling  all  night, 
struck  across  country  in  the  general  direction  of  Fort 
Severn.  What  had  become  of  the  three  men  without 
supplies,  she  did  not  know,  but  she  supposed  they 
had  returned  to  Sturgeon  Lake,  as  they  could  have 
done  easily. 

Then,  Donald  told  his  story  briefly,  and,  when  he 
had  finished,  they  looked  mournfully  at  each  other. 

"  Dearest,"  said  the  captain  boldly,  *'  here's  the 
situation:  The  supplies  are  In  the  river.  Maybe, 
we  can  rescue  some  of  the  cooking  utensils;  but  I 
doubt  it.  There's  a  cabin  a  mile  from  here  that  we 
can  live  in  for  the  present.  There's  no  food  but  fish, 
for  we  haven't  any  gun  or  ammunition,  unless  — " 


A  RESCUE  AND  A  SURPRISE        139 

"  No!  "  She  shook  her  head.  "  They  took  the 
guns  off  the  sledge  before  I  ran  away  with  it." 

"  We  haven't  anything  to  start  on,  dearest " — 
Donald  grinned  amiably  —  "except  our  knowledge 
and  our  nerve.  We  have  got  to  carve  existence  out 
of  this.''  He  included  the  surrounding  desolation 
with  a  sweep  of  his  arm.  "  If  this  were  only  a  desert 
island  now,  how  easy  everything  would  be !  " 

"  You've  forgotten  one  thing  we  have,"  remarked 
Jean  with  twinkling  eyes. 

**  What's  that?" 

"  Each  other,  stupid  1  "  .  .  .  But  ere  long  she  re- 
gretted the  words. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A  FRIGID  IDYL 

A  RRIVED  back  at  the  little  shanty,  they  set 
^  ^  about  their  housekeeping  at  once.  The  situation 
might  have  been  delicate  in  other  periods  and  climes, 
but  here  no  false  sentimentality  clouded  the  grisly 
facts.  Face  to  face  with  them  stood  hunger  and 
cold,  two  relentless  enemies.  Hunger,  In  a  land 
where  the  temperature  burns  up  the  tissues  as  a 
freight-engine  on  a  grade  eats  coal,  makes  no  truces; 
It  sets  Its  fangs  when  October  comes,  and  tries  Its 
malignant  best  to  keep  them  set  until  May  or  June. 

Cold  Is  something  that  persons  of  a  temperate 
clime  never  experience.  When  the  temperature 
reaches  ten  below  zero  the  papers  are  full  of  it,  and 
there  is  general  consternation.  But,  here.  In  latitude 
fifty-four  north,  the  mercury  goes  down  to  fifty  or 
sixty  below,  and  life  becomes  something  that  is  at 
best  only  mere  existence,  and  at  worst,  annihilation. 

And  these  were  the  two  foes  that  a  hardy  man 
and  a  delicately  natured  woman  set  themselves  to 
defeat. 

"I  —  I  can't  very  well  sleep  outside  the  shanty," 
said  Donald  as  Indifferently  as  possible.  "  I  have 
no  tent  or  sleeping-bag.     I  should  freeze  to  death." 

The  girl  colored  slightly,  and  asked: 

140 


A  FRIGID  IDYL  141 

"Is  there  no  way  to  make  a  partition?"  The 
man  pondered  a  minute,  and  then  shook  his  head. 

"  Of  course,"  he  explained,  "  a  wood  partition  is 
out  of  the  question,  because  any  real  tree  would  break 
ax  steel  Into  brittle  bits.  However,  there  are  the 
robes  and  blankets  you  traveled  In.  If  we  find  we 
can  spare  one  of  those,  we'll  fix  a  partition  —  other- 
wise not.  We  can't  risk  freezing  our  faces  or  our 
bodies  at  night." 

He  spoke  with  a  tone  of  genial  friendliness,  but 
there  was  a  note  of  undlsputable  authority  In  his 
voice  that  silenced  whatever  objecfion  the  girl  might 
have  offered.  Already,  she  began  to  feel  that  this 
man  knew.  He  would  cherish  her  to  his  last  breath, 
but  what  he  said  she  must  obey,  both  for  his  sake 
and  her  own.  There  was  no  equivocation  possible; 
he  had  taken  command;  he  would  give  orders,  which 
he  expected  her  to  obey  promptly;  he  would  do 
everything  for  the  best.  He  knew,  and  she  did  not. 
Therefore,  she  would  trust  herself  to  him.  So,  she 
surrendered  her  will  to  his,  and  felt  little  thrills  of 
admiration  as  he  walked  about  deep  in  thought,  plan- 
ning their  temporary  life  In  this  wretched  hovel, 
which,  somehow,  had  stolen  a  little  of  the  sunshine 
from  the  snow,  and  become  a  dear  and  sacred  dwell- 
ing-place. 

Leaving  her  to  set  the  place  in  order  as  much  as 
possible,  Donald  returned  to  the  river  and  the  up- 
turned sledge.  The  latter,  grounding  in  a  shallow, 
had  stopped  the  down-stream  drift  and  now,  with  its 
dead  dogs,  was  freezing  solid  in  the  ice.    With  his 


142  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

knife,  he  chopped  away  around  the  edges,  and  found 
the  pack  thongs  still  around  the  sledge.  Hazardous 
poking  with  a  hooked  branch  brought  the  pack  to 
light  from  beneath  the  sleigh,  but  it  was  a  flat  and 
sickly  reminder  of  what  it  had  once  been.  The  flour 
was  gone,  but  the  tea,  which  had  been  in  a  canister, 
was  unspoiled.  A  chunk  of  fat  meat  might  prove  of 
some  value  after  treatment.  A  few  battered  tin 
dishes  and  utensils  Donald  greeted  as  priceless  finds, 
and  a  rusted  woodsman's  ax  sent  him  into  a  war-dance 
of  joy.  Last  of  all,  a  single  steel  trap  came  to  light. 
He  examined  it  closely,  and  discovered  why  it  had 
been  taken  on  the  trip  by  Charley  Seguis  and  his 
companions.  It  was  broken,  and  no  doubt  one  of  the 
trappers  had  expected  to  mend  it  some  night  by  the 
camp-fire.  Just  now,  Donald  could  not  tell  whether 
it  was  beyond  his  skill  or  not. 

Laden  with  his  finds,  he  returned  to  the  shanty, 
where  Jean  had  succeeded  in  coaxing  a  fire  to  burn 
in  the  old  stone  chimney  at  one  end.  Near  by  lay 
the  remainder  of  the  fish  he  had  caught  in  the  morn- 
ing. 

"  Those  will  do  for  to-night,"  he  said,  "  but,  after 
supper,  I  must  catch  some  more,  and  look  about  the 
banks  of  that  little  river.  I  thought  I  noticed  several 
things  there  this  morning." 

"  Oh,  don't  go  away  and  leave  me  alone,"  pleaded 
the  girl,  forgetting  that  for  two  nights  and  days  she 
had  braved  the  wilderness  single-handed. 

"  We'll  go  together  then,  princess,"  he  replied, 
smiling.     It  was  now  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  al- 


A  FRIGID  IDYL  143 

most  dark,  so  they  set  about  dinner,  which  consisted 
of  fish  and  tea.  During  the  meal,  Donald  regarded 
Jean  for  a  little  In  quizzical  silence. 

"  I'm  glad  Mr.  Gates,  the  missionary,  is  with  your 
father,"  he  said,  at  last. 

**  I'm  not,  particularly;  he's  only  In  the  way,  and 
wants  to  preach  all  the  time,  when  there's  fighting 
to  be  done.     Why  are  you  glad?" 

"  Just  for  the  convenience  of  the  thing,  that's  all. 
When  we  join  the  men  from  Fort  Severn,  he  can 
marry  us  at  once." 

"  Well,  well,  young  man !  "  replied  the  girl,  se- 
verely. "  I  can't  say  that  we  have  to  rush  Into 
matrimony  the  moment  we  perceive  a  cassock.  Per- 
sonally, next  June  at  the  fort,  when  the  brigades 
have  come  down,  and  there  are  flowers,  and  so  forth, 
I  shall  be  more  ready  to  talk  the  matter  over  with 
you."  She  looked  at  him  with  eyebrows  lifted  in 
mock  condescension  while  she  stirred  the  fish  with 
a  tin  spoon. 

Donald,  In  the  first  bliss  of  happiness  realized, 
leaned  over  to  kiss  her,  but  this  time  the  eyes  that 
met  his  were  serious.  He  took  the  upraised  hand  in 
his  banteringly,  but  listened  to  what  she  said,  never- 
theless. 

"  Donald,  of  course  we  have  to  be  a  little  foolish 
sometimes,  but  I  must  ask  you  to  agree  with  me 
that  we  only  be  good  friends  after  —  oh,  say  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  From  then  on,  no  fool- 
ishness.    It  will  spare  us  a  lot." 

Donald  looked  at  the  girl,  keenly  surprised.    The 


144  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

same  thought  had  been  In  his  mind,  but  he  had  not 
dared  express  it  for  fear  of  having  to  entangle  him- 
self In  impossible  explanations.  But,  now,  her 
woman's  Intuition  felt  the  thing  he  knew,  that  love, 
fierce,  burning,  desirous,  comes  in  the  northland  as 
well  as  In  the  tropics.  With  a  few  words,  they 
made  their  rule  and  he  dropped  her  hand. 

''  But,  to  return  to  the  preacher,"  he  resumed 
presently,  as  they  had  more  fish,  "  I  think  It  will  be 
better  for  all  hands,  if  we  marry  at  once.  This  little 
honeyless  honeymoon  won't  stand  the  strain  of 
months,  dearest,  for  in  that  time  it  will  have  been 
discussed  from  Labrador  to  the  Columbia,  and  from 
the  Coppermine  to  Lake  Superior,  and  I  don't  want 
you  on  the  tongues  of  men  at  all.  I  am  glad  you 
love  me,  for  now  our  marriage  has  to  be." 

"  But,  Donald,  think  of  father!  This  Is  the  last 
thing  In  the  world  he  will  allow,"  Jean  protested. 
"Why,  If  he  thought  I  had  such  a  step  In  mind 
he'd  have  apoplexy,  I'm  sure.  Really,  you  don't 
know  how  strongly  he  feels  about  It,  and  about 
you." 

"  In  reference  to  this  Charley  Seguls,  whom  I 
failed  to  bring  in?" 

"  No,  it  isn't  that.  He  disposed  of  that  by  put- 
ting you  In  the  guard-house." 

"  It  can't  be  my  escape  then,  for  he  hasn't  heard 
of  that." 

"  No,"  said  the  girl,  sitting  back,  her  eyes  trou- 
bled; "It  Isn't  any  of  these  things,  but  something 
else  more  dreadful  or  hurtful  to  you.     I  have  tried 


A  FRIGID  IDYL  145 

so  hard  to  learn  what  It  is,  but  he  won't  tell  me  I 
Old  Maria  knows,  and  hinted  at  it  — '' 

"  Old  Maria !  "  cried  Donald,  in  disgust.  "  What 
can  that  old  hag  know  about  me?  Little  girl,  my 
life  has  been  clean,  and  yet  these  accursed  rumors 
fly  around  me  like  a  flock  of  hawks  over  a  grouse- 
nest.  Even  your  father,  a  just  man  in  his  way,  will 
not  give  me  a  chance  to  prove  or  disprove.  In 
heaven's  name,  Jean,  if  you  know  anything  more 
tell  me,  and  I'll  run  the  thing  to  earth,  if  it  takes  all 
my  life." 

The  girl  lifted  her  calm  eyes  to  his  troubled  ones, 
and  he  knew  that  he  would  hear  the  frank  truth. 

"  Poor  boy!  "  she  said.  "  I  don't  know  anything 
definite.  Old  Maria  hinted  at  a  stain  on  your  life, 
and  father,  when  I  demanded  the  facts  from  him, 
said  that  he  wouldn't  tell  me  if  he  could,  for  it 
wasn't  proper  for  me  to  hear  them.  That's  all  I 
know.  But,  Donald,  never  for  a  moment  have  I 
doubted  you,  or  lost  faith  that  you  could  upset  this 
whole  tissue  of  rumor  as  soon  as  you  laid  hold  of  it." 

**  Good  little  princess !  "  he  said  gratefully,  and 
pressed  her  hand  for  a  moment.  "  My  conscience 
is  clear,  and,  if  I  have  your  faith  and  love,  I  can 
fight  anything.  God  help  these  breeders  of  slander, 
if  I  get  hold  of  them,  that's  all,"  he  added,  grimly. 

A  little  while  later,  armed  with  ax  and  knife, 
and  accompanied  by  Jean,  who  carried  the  home- 
made fish-hne,  Donald  led  the  way  through  the 
woods  to  the  river  that  had  brought  him  such  pre- 
cious freight  on  the  tide  of  tragedy.     That  morn- 


146  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

ing  while  angling,  his  eyes  had  seen  many  things. 
Fifty  feet  from  where  he  sat,  he  had  observed  an 
iced  pool  in  which  a  back-set  from  the  swift  stream 
probably  moved  sluggishly.  He  had  noticed  little 
tracks  of  five-toed,  webbed  feet  on  the  thin  drift  of 
powdery  snow  that  led  to  the  bank  above  this  pool. 
Last  of  all,  he  had  seen  a  smooth  incline  worn  by 
these  webbed  feet  down  to  the  brink  of  the  pool. 

"  Otter!  "  he  had  said  to  himself;  and  he  had  re- 
solved to  come  back  later. 

Now,  with  crisp  instructions  as  to  silence,  he  ad- 
vanced noiselessly,  trying  every  bit  of  crust  before 
he  set  his  weight  upon  it,  avoiding  tufts  of  under- 
brush, and  repressing  his  breathing.  Jean,  a  true 
daughter  of  the  North,  sensed  these  precautions 
almost  by  instinct,  and  followed  his  example.  He 
did  not  seek  the  fishing-hole  of  the  morning,  but 
rather  a  clump  of  trees  on  the  bank  back  of  the  In- 
cline, thanking  fortune  that  the  light  wind  was  In  his 
face,  so  that  the  man-smell  could  not  be  carried  down 
to  the  pool.  With  infinite  care,  the  two  approached 
the  shelter  of  the  trees,  and,  presently,  when  the 
wind  rustled  among  the  boughs,  parted  them  and 
looked  through. 

There,  on  the  bank,  was  the  whole  colony  of 
otters,  engaged  in  an  exhilarating  pastime.  Head- 
first, tail-first,  sidewise,  singly  and  in  groups,  the 
little  animals  were  coasting  down  the  toboggan-like 
path  they  had  worn  from  the  top  of  the  bank  to 
the  water's  edge.  No  sooner  did  they  roll  to  the 
bottom  than  they  raced  to  the  top  and  started  all 


A  FRIGID  IDYL  147 

over  again,  slithering,  careening,  tumbling.  To  the 
girl,  It  was  a  strangely  ludicrous  sight,  but  to  Donald 
it  was  familiar  enough.  The  otters  were  Indulging 
In  the  favorite  amusement  of  their  kind  —  sliding 
down  a  snow-bank. 

The  two  observers  turned  away  soon,  and,  with 
exaggerated  care,  made  their  way  back  to  the  little 
shanty,  where  Donald  at  once  set  about  mending  the 
broken  trap.  In  two  hours'  time,  he  had  succeeded 
in  fixing  It  temporarily.  Then,  after  wrapping  Jean 
in  her  blankets  and  furs  on  the  spruce-covered  bunk, 
he  rolled  up  In  his  own  coverings  before  the  fire  for 
the  night. 

The  next  morning,  Donald  caught  a  fish  for  break- 
fast, and  then  returned  to  the  otter-slide  with  his 
trap  and  the  piece  of  meat  he  had  rescued  from  the 
pack.  Baiting  the  trap  with  part  of  a  fish,  he  buried 
it  In  the  snow  at  a  point  where  the  otter  must  come 
down  the  slide  to  the  pool.  Then,  he  rubbed  the 
meat  In  the  tracks  where  he  had  stepped,  and  brushed 
snow  across  them,  obliterating  every  trace  of  his 
presence.  After  that,  he  returned  to  the  shanty,  for 
there  was  still  much  to  be  done. 

On  his  way  to  the  fish  pool  that  morning,  he  had 
seen  a  number  of  sharply  impressed,  three-toed  clus- 
ters of  footprints,  and  recognized  the  tracks  of  the 
hare.  Now,  he  searched  the  by-ways  of  the  low 
ground  in  the  vicinity,  and  finally  discovered  a  line 
of  undergrowth  like  a  hedge,  through  which  a  pas- 
sage had  been  forced.  The  hard-packed  runway  told 
him  that  here  the  long-ears  passed  through  on  their 


148  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

foraging  expeditions.  He  cut  a  number  of  small 
sticks  and  planted  them  across  this  opening,  leaving 
barely  enough  room  for  a  small  animal  to  pass. 
Then,  he  took  from  his  pocket  the  string  of  moose- 
gut  that  had  made  part  of  the  fish-line,  and  fashioned 
It  Into  a  running  noose.  This  he  hung  across  the 
opening,  and  tied  the  other  end  to  a  bent  twig,  which 
would  spring  up  immediately  a  pull  dislodged  it  from 
its  caught  position.  Here,  too,  he  carefully  effaced 
any  man-trace,  and  afterward  went  on  to  the  second 
hedge,  where  he  set  a  snare  made  of  his  moccasin 
strings.  At  noon,  he  returned  to  his  snares,  and 
found  two  strangled  rabbits  hanging  in  mid  air, 
frozen  to  the  consistency  of  granite.  Releasing 
them,  he  reset  the  snares,  and  returned  jubilantly  to 
the  cabin  with  his  catch.  .  .  .  And  they  had  rabbit 
stew  that  day. 

This  was  only  the  beginning.  It  was  food,  and 
no  more.  As  the  days  passed,  Donald  spent  many 
hours  in  the  forest,  chopping  saplings  and  under- 
brush for  the  fire,  going  farther  and  farther  from 
the  cabin  In  his  search  for  the  proper  materials. 
Long  since,  he  had  chopped  the  broken  and  bat- 
tered sledge  out  of  the  ice,  and  hauled  it  home.  But 
It  was  damaged  beyond  repair,  the  smooth  boards 
that  made  its  riding  surface  having  been  broken  and 
splintered  hopelessly.  But  there  was  still  use  for  It. 
With  remarkable  Ingenuity,  he  fashioned  a  small 
sleigh,  some  four  or  five  feet  long.  Then,  from  the 
harness  of  the  dead  dogs,  he  made  trappings  for 
MIstisI,  who,  apparently  anxious  to  help  in  all  he 


A  FRIGID  IDYE  149 

saw  going  on  around  him,  took  to  them  kindly. 
After  this,  it  was  easy  work  to  gather  wood,  how- 
ever far  distant.  The  dog  made  regular  round 
trips  from  the  cabin  to  the  spot  where  the  man  was 
at  work,  and  shortly  a  great  pile  of  wood  formed 
a  wind-break  for  the  shanty. 

Jean  Fitzpatrick  now  attended  to  the  fishing  alone, 
and  what  they  did  not  use  for  food  was  packed 
away  out  of  Mistisi's  eager  reach  in  the  preserving 
cold.  The  rabbit-snares  with  two  settings  yielded 
three  or  four  of  the  animals  every  day,  and  these, 
skinned  and  cleaned,  added  to  the  store  of  reserve 
food. 

The  otter-trap  worked  successfully,  but  required 
repairing  after  each  catch,  so  that  it  was  scarcely 
worth  the  trouble  of  setting,  since  rabbits  and  fish 
continued  plentiful.  One  night,  however,  after  a 
series  of  sharp  sniffs  at  the  door  while  the  rabbit 
was  broiling,  and  the  discovery  of  padded  prints  in 
the  snow  next  day,  Donald  worked  more  carefully 
over  the  contrivance,  and  set  it  to  catch  larger  game 
—  for  bob-cats  were  about. 

The  evenings,  too,  were  busy,  for  the  rabbit  skins 
must  be  cured.  Donald  hewed  out  a  wedge-shaped 
slab  of  cedar.  This  he  spliced.  Then  into  a  pelt, 
with  the  fur  side  turned  in,  he  shoved  this  slab, 
forcing  Into  the  splicing  a  smaller  wedge  of  wood. 
Hammering  this,  the  larger  block  widened,  and  thus 
stretched  the  skin.  When  the  proper  tautness  was 
obtained,  he  fixed  the  pelt  to  another  board  with 
pegs  of  wood,  and  hung  it  to  dry, 


150  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

Now,  there  were  a  number  of  these  skins,  and 
Jean  wished  to  satisfy  her  longing  for  privacy.  A 
tiny  rabbit-bone,  whittled  to  a  point,  and  rabbit 
sinews,  white  and  tough  and  secured  with  great  diffi- 
culty, supplied  the  means.  So,  for  several  days,  she 
sewed  the  skins  together,  and  at  last  hung  before 
her  bed  of  boughs  a  heavy  curtain. 

Two  weeks  passed,  and  the  man  and  girl  had 
successfully  set  the  vicious  world  at  naught.  Their 
supplies  were  piling  up  fast,  and  they  bade  fair  to 
be  comfortable  all  winter. 

Before  the  fire  one  night,  when  there  was  no  work 
to  do,  Donald  pulled  comfortably  at  his  pipe,  and 
observed  the  girl  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  rude 
fireplace,  busy  with  her  rabbit-bone  needle.  Where 
she  had  seemed  sweet,  gracious,  and  gentle  before, 
now,  after  their  enforced  Intimate  comradeship,  his 
love  for  her  was  something  the  wonder  of  which  he 
had  never  dreamed  possible.  If  only  a  priest  might 
come  by  on  some  evangelizing  journey  to  the 
Eskimo !  He  would  marry  her  then  and  there,  and 
live  thus  until  spring,  or  her  father,  came.  Since 
their  perfect  relationship  It  seemed  utterly  impos- 
sible for  him  to  exist  without  her. 

Suddenly,  with  a  shake,  Donald  jerked  himself 
back  from  these  dreams,  and  looked  at  her  again, 
very  sadly.  The  announcement  he  was  about  to 
make  appeared  all  the  harder. 

"  Jean,"  he  said  at  last,  "  in  about  two  days,  we 
start  back  for  Fort  Severn." 


'Jean,"  he  said  at  last,  "in  about  two  days  we   start  back  for  Fort 

Severn." 


A  FRIGID  IDYL  151 

The  girl  raised  her  head,  and  showed  a  face  of 
pouting  disappointment. 

"Why?''  she  queried.  "Here,  we  are  comfort- 
able and  safe;  we  are  in  bad  shape  to  travel  without 
a  sledge,  and  the  dangers  are  many,  especially  since 
you  have  no  gun.  Let's  stay  here  until  somebody 
finds  us.  It's  been  a  wonderfully  happy  time  for  me. 
You're  the  dearest,  bravest,  most  chivalrous  man 
alive,  Donald." 

The  lover  flushed  with  pleasure,  but  his  brows 
drew  down  nevertheless,  and  his  jaw  set,  for  the 
temptation  was  strong  upon  him. 

"  I've  been  very  happy,  too,  princess,"  he  re- 
joined; "but  we  musn't  stay  any  longer.  Before 
the  world,  neither  of  us  would  have  a  valid  excuse. 
We  have  provisions  enough  now  for  a  week  in  the 
woods,  and  public  opinion  would  demand  the  rea- 
son for  our  delay.     It's  hard,  but  we've  got  to  go." 

And,  with  a  little  sigh,  the  girl  meekly  accepted 
the  ultimatum. 


CHAPTER  XY' 

PREY  OF  THE   PACK 

A  LL  the  next  day,  the  two  prepared  for  their  de- 
■^  •*-  parture.  Donald  strengthened  the  little  sledge, 
and  made  their  goods  Into  a  solid  pack,  convenient 
for  him  to  carry  when  Jean  should  become  tired 
and  need  to  ride.  She  dismantled  the  shack  of  the 
pathetic  little  gew-gaws  that  had  been  a  part  of  her 
happy  housekeeping,  and  kissed  them  all  before  she 
gave  them  Into  his  hands  for  packing. 

Neither  was  Insensible  of  the  fact  that  this  de- 
parture meant  more  than  the  mere  ending  of  their 
frigid  Idyl.  Both  realized  that  McTavish  was  de- 
liberately going  back  to  imprisonment  and  disgrace, 
although  no  mention  was  made  of  the  subject.  Jean 
had  some  vague  notion  that,  ten  miles  from  the  fort, 
he  might  leave  her,  and  retire  into  the  woods  with- 
out having  been  seen.  The  Idea  had  also  occurred 
to  Donald,  but  he  had  put  It  aside  unhesitatingly  as 
the  act  of  a  coward.  It  little  mattered  to  him  what 
was  his  fate,  as  long  as  he  knew  that  Jean  was  safe, 
and  was  near  him. 

That  evening,  the  one  before  their  departure, 
they  held  mournful  obsequies  over  the  happy  two 
weeks  that  could  never  be  repeated  In  their  lives. 
They  had  just  sat  down  to  a  dinner  of  rabbit  (of 

15a 


PREY  OF  THE  PACK  153 

which  they  were  getting  heartily  tired  by  this  time), 
when  the  sound  of  bells  came  to  them,  and  they 
rushed  to  the  door.  With  shout  and  crack  of  whip, 
a  dog-train  roared  up  from  the  south,  and  came  to  a 
steaming  halt  in  the  glow  of  their  hearth. 

After  the  first  excitement  Jean,  suddenly  realiz- 
ing her  position,  had  shrunk  back  into  the  farthest 
corner  of  the  cabin,  her  face  scarlet  and  her  heart 
beating.  Donald,  to  spare  her  as  much  as  possible, 
met  the  man  outside,  and  immediately  there  were 
glad  cries  of  recognition. 

"  Well,  McTavish,  how  the  deuce  do  I  see  you 
here?  You  ought  to  be  up  at  the  fort.  But,  say, 
old  man,  I'm  glad  you  broke  out.  That  thirty-day 
term  smelled  to  heaven  when  the  old  man  gave  it. 
Good  for  you !  " 

"And  you,  Braithwaite? "  cried  Donald,  de- 
lightedly; for  the  man  was  an  old  friend  —  a  store- 
keeper at  the  fort.  "  What  are  you  doing  up  this 
way,  and  who  are  the  boys  with  you?  " 

Donald  was  greatly  surprised  that  the  two  men 
on  the  sledges  did  not  rise. 

"  WeVe  been  having  trouble  at  Sturgeon  Lake  — 
pretty  rough  stuff,  too,"  was  the  explanation;  "  and 
these  boys  got  shot  up  a  little.  Probably,  you  know 
'em  —  Planchette  and  Napoleon  Sky,  the  Indian." 

"Yes,  yes!  You  don't  say!  So,  the  Sturgeon 
Lake  trouble  has  come  to  that  point,  has  it?  I  was 
afraid  of  it.  I  knew  those  fellows  were  desperate. 
They  gave  me  a  taste  to  show  they  meant  business." 

"  They  sure  did,  Mac.     But,  say,  that  isn't  the 


154  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

worst.  The  Old  Nick  himself  is  shot  up,  and  hitting 
the  high  spots  with  fever.  We're  afraid  to  move 
him,  and — " 

"  Wh  —  what's  that?"  asked  a  trembling  femi- 
nine voice  from  the  doorway.  *'  Who  did  you  say 
had  fever?  " 

During  an  instant  of  pregnant  silence,  the  uni- 
verse stood  still  for  all  those  there  present.  The 
crisis  was  come  more  quickly  than  Donald  had  ex- 
pected. 

"  Well,  by  heavens,  Mac,"  blurted  out  Braith- 
waite,  "  I  didn't  know  you  did  this  sort  of  —  er, 
were  away  on  a  vaca  — r" 

"  Answer  her  question,"  commanded  Donald, 
bluntly;  "  and  then  I'll  explain." 

"  Oh,  yes,  who's  got  the  fever?  It's  the  govern- 
or, the  boss,  the  factor  —  er  —  Mr.  Fitzpatrick. 
It's  not  what  you  call  dangerous  yet,  but  the  chances 
are  good,  ma'am.  Yes,"  he  added,  with  evident 
relish,  "  the  chances  are  good." 

The  cry  that  broke  from  the  girl's  lips  halted  any 
further  essays  at  humor  of  this  sort. 

*'  Shut  up,  can't  you,  Braithwaite?  "  snarled  Don- 
ald. "  Can't  you  see  it's  Miss  Fitzpatrick,  and  that 
she  wants  to  know  about  her  father?  " 

"  Not  the  lost  one,  Mac?  " 

*' Yes,  the  lost  one;  I  found  her,  or,  rather,  we 
met  here  quite  by  accident,  with  nothing  on  earth 
but  the  clothes  we  stood  in,  and  a  knife  and  an  ax. 
We've  been  kicking  along  the  best  we  could  ever 


PREY  OF  THE  PACK  155 

since  In  this  cabin.  That's  all  there  is  to  it.  Now 
what  about  the  factor?  '* 

"  Well,  it  was  this  way,  Mac.  There  was  a  lively 
little  argument  goin*  on  out  front,  where  some  of 
our  boys  were  tryin'  to  capture  some  of  their'n. 
You  see,  the  factor  thought,  if  we  captured  those 
fellers,  and  brought  'em  back  to  the  fort  prisoners, 
it  would  end  the  free  tradin'.  As  I  say,  there  had 
been  quite  a  little  argument  out  front,  and  the  fac- 
tor, he  didn't  like  the  way  things  were  goin' —  got 
a  little  r'iled,  as  he  sometimes  does,  you  remember. 
We-ell,  darned  if  he  didn't  start  out  to  tell  'em  how 
to  do  It,  when  somebody  plugs  him  with  a  rifle  bullet 
in  the  collar-bone,  and  that's  the  end  of  his  fightin' 
for  a  while.  Of  course,  he's  big  and  heavy  and 
gettin'  old,  so  the  fever  that  set  in  came  to  be  the 
most  important  part  of  the  wound,  but  they  think 
he'll  pull  through." 

"  Of  course.  Dr.  Craven  from  the  fort  is  there?  " 
queried  Jean,  from  the  door. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  he  went  along  with  the  expedition, 
and  it's  good  he  did." 

"  How  is  the  situation  down  there  now?  "  Don- 
ald questioned. 

"  Well,  for  our  side,  it  ain't  no  more'n  so-so," 
was  the  somber  admission ;  **  an'  mebbe  that's 
stretchin'  it." 

After  a  little  more  general  conversation,  Braith- 
waite,  with  his  sick,  made  camp  a  short  distance 
from  the  cabin,  stoutly  refusing  Jean's  proffered  hos- 


156  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

pitallty,  and  the  two  castaways  once  more  returned 
inside,  and  took  their  places  by  the  fire. 

"  Well,  princess,  that  changes  matters  doesn't 
it?'» 

"  Yes,  Donald.     At  least  it  changes  directions." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  That  I  must  go  to  Sturgeon  Lake  and  father, 
to-morrow.  Of  course,  you  have  already  decided  to 
head  that  way." 

*'  Yes,  but  I  feel  that  you  ought  to  go  on  to  the 
fort  with  Braithwaite's  party,  and  not  down  into  the 
danger  zone,  where  anything  may  happen  to  you." 

"I  know  It,  dear  boy,"  Jean  answered,  firmly. 
"  But  I  can't  leave  father  as  sick  as  that  to  the  ten- 
der care  of  a  lot  of  fighting  trappers.  Can't  you 
see  my  position?  He's  all  alone  there,  and  I'd  like 
to  know  what  kind  of  a  daughter  I'd  be  to  turn  my 
back  and  travel  the  other  way!  " 

Donald  ceased  to  resist,  for  he  realized  she  was 
taking  the  only  course  open  to  a  girl  of  courage  and 
spirit. 

"  So,  we  travel  southwest  instead  of  northwest 
to-morrow,"  she  mused,  after  a  while. 

"  Right  into  the  deuce's  own  kettle  of  trouble," 
prophesied  Donald.  "  But  now,  princess,  we  had 
better  turn  in,  for  the  going  will  be  hard." 

Two  hours  before  dawn,  both  camps  were  astir. 
Braithwaite  and  Donald,  both  in  need  of  something, 
met  by  the  former's  camp-fire,  and  bargained.  Be- 
cause of  fast  traveling,  the  sick-train  had  no  fresh 
meat;  McTavish  had  no  firearms.    In  ten  minutes, 


PREY  OF  THE  PACK  157 

a  goodly  supply  of  frozen  rabbits  had  been  packed 
on  the  north-bound  train,  and  Donald  once  more 
caressed  the  butt  of  a  revolver  with  one  hand  and 
the  stock  of  a  rifle  with  the  other.  He  had  promised 
to  return  them  as  soon  as  possible,  along  with  the 
pocket  compass  that  one  man  had  yielded  up. 

The  queer  little  sled  that  Mistisi  hauled  became 
the  object  of  much  wit,  but  It  held  the  pack  well, 
and,  shortly  before  sunrise,  the  parties  waved  each 
other  farewell,  as  they  drew  farther  and  farther 
apart.  Just  previous  to  starting  the  trains,  Mc- 
Tavish  had  drawn  Braithwaite  aside,  and  requested 
silence  for  himself  and  men  in  regard  to  the  secret 
he  had  discovered,  out  of  regard  to  Jean. 

"  Everything  will  be  all  right  in  a  few  days,  and 
when  we  reach  Fort  Severn  again  you  can  talk  all 
you  wish,  for  then  we'll  have  been  married,"  Don- 
ald said.  Braithwaite  agreed  without  hesitation. 
He  was  a  middle-aged  man  who,  despite  his  rough- 
ness, had  a  great  fondness  for  Jean;  for  a  daughter 
of  his,  had  she  lived,  would  now  have  been  the  same 
age.      _      ^ 

Mistisi,  with  a  hoarse  bark  of  joy,  leaped  into  the 
traces  so  vigorously  that  Jean  and  Donald  on  their 
snowshoes  had  great  ado  to  keep  up  with  him.  The 
wind  had  not  yet  melted  the  crust,  and  for  three 
hours  they  made  very  fast  time. 

The  distance  to  Sturgeon  Lake  Braithwaite  had 
verified  as  being  fifty  miles.  He  had  also  given  Mc- 
Tavish  explicit  directions  where  to  find  the  camp  of 
the  men  from  Fort  Severn,  outlining  the  positions 


158  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

of  the  enemy,  and  describing  the  main  features  of 
the  situation.  Donald  thought  that,  with  good  luck 
and  good  surfaces,  they  ought  to  make  the  lake  that 
night.  If  not,  he  was  prepared  to  camp  in  the 
woods.  ...  In  later  years,  he  was  sometimes  asked 
why  he  waited  two  weeks  in  the  cabin  if  the  lake 
was  only  a  day's  journey  away,  and  to  this  he  re- 
plied that  he  was  not  sure  of  his  bearings  or  dis- 
tances, and  had  no  firearms  wherewith  to  protect 
himself  from  wild  beasts,  which  at  this  season  of 
the  year  were  hungriest  and  boldest.  That  he  had 
at  last  decided  to  go  at  all  was  only  for  the  sake  of 
Jean :  he  preferred  to  expose  her  to  the  teeth  of  ani- 
mals rather  than  to  the  tongues  of  men. 

Although  he  tempered  the  speed  to  Jean's  abili- 
ties, by  noontime  Donald  found  the  girl  exhausted, 
and  biting  her  lips  in  the  effort  to  keep  up.  He  at 
once  ordered  a  halt,  and,  as  quickly  as  possible,  made 
a  fire  and  tea,  adding  to  this  slender  menu  boiled 
fish.  Not  until  he  saw  the  warm  color  glow  once 
more  In  her  cheeks  did  he  cease  to  ply  her  with  food 
and  drink. 

Then,  he  took  the  light  pack  from  the  little  sledge, 
fastened  the  forehead  straps  around  it,  and  tucked 
Jean  In  Its  place.  The  crust  had  begun  to  melt 
shortly  before  noon,  and  Mistisi  had  broken  through. 
Now,  the  pathetic  animal  lay  down  on  his  back  and 
held  his  feet  In  the  air,  *^  woofjing**  gently  to  attract 
attention.  His  master  examined  him,  and  found 
that  his  foot-cushions  were  worn  thin,  and  that  the 


PREY  OF  THE  PACK  159 

membrane  between  the  toes  had  broken  and  bled, 
leaving  a  trail  behind. 

Here  was  an  opportunity  to  use  some  of  Jean's 
primitive  needle  work.  McTavIsh  took  from  his 
pocket  four  little  rabbit-skin  dog-shoes,  and  tied 
them  on  MIstlsI's  feet  with  soft  thongs  of  the  same 
material.  The  animal,  with  a  bark  of  pleasure, 
leaped  to  his  feet,  and  was  off  on  the  trail  before 
the  man  could  swing  his  pack  into  place. 

Then  began  the  final  stage.  Donald  figured  that 
they  had  done  more  than  half  the  distance  in  the 
morning,  but  the  breaking  crust  made  harder  going 
now,  and  their  progress  was  much  slower.  Not  until 
the  sun  wheeled  under  the  horizon  would  things 
solidify  again.  In  the  middle  of  the  morning,  they 
had  crossed  the  main  north  branch  of  the  Sachigo 
River.  The  middle  of  the  afternoon  should  bring 
them  to  the  westerly  tributary  that  fed  this  branch. 
That  passed,  only  small  occasional  streams  would 
interrupt  their  progress  to  Sturgeon  Lake. 

True  to  reckoning,  they  found  the  west  tributary, 
and  set  out  for  the  last  reach  of  their  journey.  Don- 
ald consulted  the  landmarks  he  knew,  and  laid  their 
course  toward  the  eastern  shore,  midway  the  length 
of  the  lake,  the  spot  Braithwaite  had  mentioned  as 
the  camp.  They  still  had  twelve  miles  or  so  before 
them,  and  a  preliminary  chill  gave  warning  of  sun- 
set. An  hour  before,  Jean  had  Insisted  on  running 
again,  and  the  pack  was  once  more  on  the  sledge. 

Although  he  said  nothing  about  it,  Donald  was 


i6o         THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

worried.  That  little  trail  of  blood  which  Mistisi 
hal  left  behind  furnished  food  for  serious  anxiety. 
Had  not  Jean's  exhaustion  given  him  concern  at 
noon,  he  would  have  noticed  it  long  before.  He 
centered  his  attention  upon  the  nervous  ears  of  Mis- 
tisi —  ears  that  would  have  the  forest  sounds  long 
before  his  own.  Unobtrusively,  he  used  every  means 
of  increasing  speed  and  shortening  distance.  .  .  . 
For  an  hour,  they  crunched  over  the  hardening  crust. 
The  shadows  that  had  kept  pace  with  them  com- 
menced to  grow  dim.    Only  five  miles  more ! 

Suddenly,  the  ears  of  Mistisi  twitched  nervously, 
and  from  the  hollow  of  his  great  chest  came  a  gruff, 
questioning  rumble.  What  was  it  he  had  heard? 
The  mighty  muscles  rippled  and  ran  under  his  skin 
as  he  strained  jat  the  traces,  but  there  was  no  look- 
ing back. 

Fifteen  minutes  later  brought  them  to  a  broad 
expanse  of  clear  snow.  Three  miles  beyond,  the  for- 
est that  edged  Sturgeon  Lake  loomed  dimly.  If 
they  could  but  reach  that  shelter,  the  race  would  be 
safely  over.  Twice,  Mistisi  rumbled  hoarsely  to 
himself,  and  then  growled  savagely,  his  hackles  be- 
ginning to  stiffen. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  him?  "  asked  Jean. 

"  Listen ! "  Disengaging  their  ears  from  the 
noise  of  travel,  they  suddenly  heard  a  sound  be- 
hind them,  deep  and  faint  as  from  a  hunting  dog 
in  distant  cover.  McTavish  paused  a  moment  to 
look  behind,  and  on  the  snow  where  it  touched  the 
forest  they  had  left,  descried  a  dark,  moving  mass. 


PREY  OF  THE  PACK  i6i 

with  darlc  specks  flanking  it  to  either  side.  Again, 
to  them  came  the  faint  sound,  an  echo  thrown  from 
the  resonant  face  of  the  woods. 

"  Wolves !  "  cried  Donald,  sharply.  "  And  on 
our  trail !  Run,  Jean,  as  you  have  never  run  before. 
If  we  can  make  cover,  we're  safe.  .  .  .  Mlstisi, 
mush  on,  you  fiend,  or  I'll  break  your  back!  " 

But  the  dog  needed  no  bidding  —  he  had  sensed 
the  danger  long  since.  His  swift  trot  broke  into  a 
lumbering  lope. 

The  man  swiftly  took  in  the  situation.  They  were 
in  the  middle  of  the  snow-plain.  There  is  but  one 
defense  against  wolves  —  fire,  and  here  there  was 
no  wood  of  any  sort.  Only  one  course  was  open  to 
them,  to  go  on.  Their  breath  steamed  back  into 
their  faces  in  clouds;  the  slide  and  crunch  of  snow- 
shoes,  and  the  creaking  of  the  sledge  sounded  under 
foot.  The  sun  had  dropped  below  the  horizon,  and 
the  early  darkness  had  come  swiftly  marching  down 
from  the  north,  bringing  in  its  train  the  fickle,  in- 
constant beauty  of  the  aurora.  Great  streamers  of 
color  shot  silently  from  horizon  to  zenith,  and  flick- 
ered with  eerie  dimness  across  the  white  gleam  of 
the  snow. 

But  Donald  did  not  see  these  things.  In  his  ears 
was  but  one  sound,  the  baying  of  the  wolf-pack  on 
the  hunt.  He  could  almost  see  them  come,  red 
tongues  slavering  between  white  fangs,  gray  shoul- 
ders rising  and  falling  in  uneven  rhythm,  great,  gray 
brushes  flowing  straight  out  behind.  .  .  .  He  looked 
back.     They  had  gained;  they  traveled  almost  two 


1 62  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

feet  to  his  one.  Yet,  if  there  were  no  accident  It 
was  possible  he  could  reach  the  forest. 

''  Damnation!  " 

Crying  to  Jean  to  go  on,  he  halted  and  stooped 
over  his  snowshoes,  the  slip-strings  of  which  had 
loosened.  In  a  minute,  he  was  up  again  and  off, 
sliding,  leaping  from  hummock  to  hummock,  glis- 
sading down  the  little  Inclines,  speeding  like  a  winged 
Mercury  of  the  North.  How  he  could  run.  If  alone ! 
In  five  minutes,  he  caught  the  dog  and  Jean,  and  ac- 
commodated his  pace  to  theirs. 

Now,  the  forest  was  a  bare  half-mile  ahead,  the 
pack  but  a  half-mile  behind.  The  baying  was  near 
now,  loud,  exultant,  terrifying.  Perhaps,  the  huge 
leader  had  sighted  the  swiftly  flying  figures  on  the 
snow. 

"  Donald !  I  can't  go  a  step  farther.  Go  on,  and 
leave  me !  '* 

Suffocated  with  her  own  breathing,  each  foot 
seemingly  lead,  each  muscle  and  tendon  a  hot  wire, 
Jean  stumbled  feebly  where  she  ran.  Donald  caught 
her,  and  halted  the  dog,  that  shook  with  his  panting 
like  an  engine  after  a  long  run.  Two  seconds,  and 
the  pack  was  cut  loose,  and  lay  upon  the  snow.  Two 
more,  and  Jean  was  on  the  sledge.  Another,  and 
they  were  away  again,  with  the  forest  in  plain  sight 
now. 

Fighting  the  hardest  battle  of  all  was  MIstlsI. 
Every  steam-soaked  hair  along  his  great  back  was 
erect;  every  other  breath  was  a  snarl;  every  Instinct 
in  his  fearless  nature  called  for  the  struggle  of  fangs 


PREY  OF  THE  PACK  163 

against  fangs  for  the  protection  of  his  master  —  the 
master  that  had  once  saved  his  life.  Big  as  any  wolf, 
he  was  the  match  of  any,  and  his  nature  did  not  take 
into  account  the  odds  against  him. 

But  his  master  had  said  to  mush  on,  in  words  of 
great  emphasis;  so  he  crushed  back  all  the  battle- 
fury  in  his  pounding  heart,  and  mushed  as  he  had 
never  mushed  before. 

There  was  a  pause,  as  the  wolves  stopped,  and 
rifled  the  sledge-pack  —  a  brief  pause  filled  with  hor- 
rid snarls  and  yelps.  Then,  the  steady,  resonant 
baying  again,  louder  and  more  triumphant,  seemingly 
at  the  very  heels  of  the  fugitives.  A  hundred  yards 
away  the  woods  stood,  impersonal  witnesses  of  the 
struggle;  three  hundred  yards  behind,  the  leader  of 
the  pack  fixed  his  gleaming  green  eye  upon  the 
quarry,  and  let  out  the  last  link  in  his  tireless  muscles. 

Donald  realized  now  what  he  had  feared  for  the 
last  half-mile  —  that,  even  were  the  woods  reached 
safely,  to  build  a  fire  would  be  out  of  the  question. 
It  must  be  a  fight  to  the  death,  and  he  could  foresee 
but  one  result.  For  himself,  he  did  not  mind.  He 
had  brushed  with  death  too  many  times  to  fear  its 
coming.  But  Jean!  What  terror  must  be  hers,  to 
whom  the  bitter  truths  of  the  forest  trails  were  new ! 
He  only  hoped  she  did  not  remember  that  wolves 
tear  before  they  kill. 

Drawing  his  revolver,  he  handed  it  to  her,  and 
she,  without  a  second's  wait,  turned  round,  and  fired 
into  the  thick  pack.  She  was  a  good  shot,  and  every 
bullet  told.     At  the  same  time,  Donald  lifted  his 


i64  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

rifle,  and  pumped  five  smoking  shells  while  he  ran, 
pulling  the  trigger  as  fast  as  he  could,  and  firing 
into  the  air,  since  he  dared  not  turn. 

Now,  they  had  gained  the  ''jrest,  and  Mistisi,  re- 
sponding to  the  cry  of  "  chaw,''  swerved  to  the 
right  Into  the  shelter  of  a  breastwork  of  underbrush. 
In  a  few  seconds,  with  the  brush  behind  them,  and 
the  upturned  sledge  before,  they  awaited  the  attack. 

Round  the  point  of  the  cover  rushed  the  leaders, 
and  two  fell  snarling  beneath  the  mass  of  those  that 
followed.  In  the  struggle  over  the  bodies,  others 
fell,  but  the  main  pack  swerved  wide,  and  commenced 
their  circling  attack. 

"  Donald,  my  revolver  is  empty,"  suddenly  cried 
Jean. 

"  Cartridges  in  my  left  pocket,"  cried  the  man,  arid 
the  girl,  with  trembling  fingers,  reloaded  the  weapon, 
while  the  man  held  the  brutes  at  bay. 

Suddenly,  from  the  left,  a  dark  form  shot  into 
the  air.  McTavIsh  ducked,  and  the  wolf  passed  over 
him.  But  Mistisi,  all  his  pent-up  fury  released,  rose 
on  his  hind  legs,  his  great  mouth  open,  his  eyes  fiery. 
With  a  ferocious  snarl,  he  met  the  savage  attack, 
and  his  jaws  closed  upon  the  hairy  throat  in  an  in- 
exorable death-grip. 

Came  a  great  shouting  in  the  forest,  and  a  score 
of  men  broke  cover  from  the  depths  of  the  woods. 
The  firing  grew  swiftly  to  a  fusillade,  and  in  three 
minutes  the  snow  was  covered  with  the  dark  forms 
of  the  wolves.    The  few  that  remained  turned  tail, 


In  the  struggle  over  the  bodies,  others  fell,  but  the  main  pack  swervecl 
wide  and  commenced  their  circling  attack. 


PREY  OF  THE  PACK  165 

and  sped  silently  across  the  snow-plain,  pursued  by 
a  parting  volley. 

•  A  silence  followed,  broken  only  by  a  death-rattle 
here  and  there  on  the  ground;  then,  the  sound  of 
hysterical  weeping,  as  Jean  Fitzpatrick  broke  down 
under  the  reaction. 

"  Here  you,  whoever  you  are !  "  cried  Donald. 
"  Come  and  help  us  out  of  this."  And  the  next 
minute  they  were  surrounded,  and  friendly  hands 
lifted  them  up. 

"  By  heaven !  It's  Captain  McTavish  and  the 
girl,"  cried  a  hearty  voice.  "  Now,  I  guess  the  old 
man'll  get  well." 


CHAPTER  XVL 

FEARFUL   DISCLOSURES 

¥T  was  with  a  strange  mixture  of  emotion  that  Don- 
^  aid  McTavish  approached  the  rough  log  cabin 
where  lay  Angus  FItzpatrick.  The  morning  was 
one  of  bitter  cold,  and  the  smoke  from  the  camp- 
fires  hung  low  about  the  tops  of  trees,  a  sure  sign  of 
fearful  frost.  During  the  past  night,  he  had  slept 
as  of  old,  his  feet  to  a  blaze,  other  men  snoring  about 
him.  Jean  had  been  led  away  as  soon  as  they  reached 
the  camp.  Their  innocent,  childlike  play  at  keeping 
house  was  over;  those  two  inexpressibly  sweet  weeks 
would  never  be  repeated,  yet  their  sacred  associations 
would  be  forever  in  his  mind,  like  some  beautiful 
thing  caught  imperishably  at  the  moment  of  its  full 
expression.  When  would  he  see  her  again?  Not 
even  a  parting  hand-clasp  had  lightened  the  separa- 
tion of  the  night  before.  She  had  gone  to  her 
father;  he  to  the  camp-fire  and  the  rough  men. 

Pleading  exhaustion,  he  had  refused  to  tell  his 
story  in  reply  to  eager  questions.  Where  had  he 
found  her?  How?  When?  The  thought  of  even 
sketching  to  these  plain-minded  fellows  the  ground- 
work on  which  had  been  reared  such  a  structure  of 
poetry  seemed  sacrilege.    No,  he  would  keep  silent. 

At  the  door,  a  loafing  trapper,  smoking  a  pipe, 

i6^ 


FEARFUL  DISCLOSURES  167 

greeted  him  by  name.  The  factor,  even  in  this 
wilderness,  maintained  some  show  of  his  rank,  and 
demanded  a  guard  to  his  dwelling.  No  doubt  the 
diplomatic  and  silent  Tee-ka-mee  was  inside.  Mc- 
Tavish  waited  until  the  sentry  had  announced  his 
presence,  and  had  returned  with  the  word  for  him 
to  enter. 

The  interior  scarcely  offered  fitting  surroundings 
for  the  lord  of  a  domain  as  big  as  England.  Un- 
softened,  squared  logs  formed  the  walls,  and  the 
roof  consisted  of  slabs  and  branches  which,  with  the 
sifted  and  frozen  snow,  formed  an  impenetrable 
covering.  In  the  corner  away  from  the  wind,  a 
bunk,  made  soft  with  blankets  and  spruce-boughs, 
supported  the  factor. 

Donald  was  struck  by  the  autocrat's  appearance. 
The  old  buffalo-head,  with  its  shaggy  white  hair  and 
beard,  did  not  seem  to  have  the  poise  of  former 
times;  the  cheeks  were  hollow,  and  the  whole  body 
thinner.  But  the  eyes,  burning  as  of  old,  looked 
fiercely  out  from  under  their  beetling  white  brows. 
Evidently,  the  grief  over  Jean's  disappearance  had 
eaten  away  the  body,  although  the  spirit  burned  like 
a  flame,  proud,  strong,  invincible. 

Tee-ka-mee,  who  had  just  turned  away  from  his 
master,  greeted  McTavish  with  his  pleasant  smile, 
and  then  went  outside,  closing  the  rough  door.  The 
two  men  were  face  to  face. 

For  a  little  while,  there  was  silence,  as  the  older 
one  pierced  the  younger  with  his  glance. 

"  I  have  so  much  to  say  to  you,  Captain  McTav- 


i68  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIE 

ish,  that  I  hardly  know  where  to  begin,'*  he  said 
finally,  speaking  in  a  calm,  but  strong,  voice.  "  I 
see  you  here  under  most  peculiar  circumstances." 

"  Yes,  sir,  you  do,  and,  because  of  their  nature, 
I  am  both  glad  and  sorry." 

"  I  ^m  only  sorry,"  came  back  the  stern  reply. 
"  However,  I  have  been  busy  thanking  heaven  all 
night  that  you  were  deserted  in  the  right  spot  to 
drag  my  little  girl  from  the  water,  and  save  her  life. 
It  was  a  brave  act,  McTavish,  and  I  appreciate  it." 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  I  thought  I  was  saving 
Charley  Seguis  until  afterward." 

"  You  would  have  been  a  fool  not  to  throw  him: 
back  in  the  water,  if  it  had  been  he."  The  factor's 
tones  dripped  venom  like  a  snake's  mouth  at  the  men- 
tion of  the  half-breed.  "  But  will  you  kindly  explain 
to  me  why  you  broke  out  of  Fort  Severn?  " 

"  Because  I  considered  my  imprisonment  there  an 
injustice.  But  that  is  only  my  feeling  In  the  matter. 
There  was,  also,  a  duty  side  to  the  question.  I  could 
not  remain  there  longer,  and  feel  that  I  was  a  man." 

"And  what  was  this  duty,  pray?"  The  voice 
was  sarcastic. 

"  The  finding  of  J  —  your  daughter." 

"  What  right  have  you  to  consider  yourself  so 
duty-bound  in  that  direction  that  you  overturn  dis- 
cipline, disregard  my  commands,  and  make  a  laugh- 
ing-stock of  me?  " 

"  Only  the  right  of  a  lover,  Mr.  FItzpatrick.  To 
that  right,  I  set  no  limits." 

"  You  are  very  quick  to  find  an  imagined  right, 


FEARFUL  DISCLOSURES  169 

young  man,"  Fltzpatrick  said,  grimly.  "  How  about 
myself,  the  girl's  father,  the  one  who,  most  of  all, 
should  give  up  everything  to  such  a  search?  Did  I 
leave  the  Company's  business  to  take  care  of  itself?  " 

"  No,  but  it  is  well  I  did,  or  else  you  would  never 
have  seen  Jean  again.  I  don't  think,  Mr.  Fitz- 
patrick,  that  there  is  anything  gained  arguing  in  this 
circle.     What  else  have  you  to  say  to  me?" 

"  My  daughter  has  told  me  everything,"  went  on 
the  factor  painfully,  shifting  on  his  rough  bed.  "  In 
fact,  she  got  quite  excited  over  your  chivalrous  treat- 
ment of  her,  while  you  were  together.  Of  course  I 
believe  my  daughter,  and,  when  she  tells  me  that  you 
acted  merely  as  friends,  I  take  her  word.  At  the 
same  time.  Captain  McTavIsh,  there  does  not  come 
to  my  mind  the  slightest  reason  why  you  should  have 
forced  yourself  into  the  same  cabin  with  her." 

Donald  briefly  explained  the  situation,  outlining 
the  treachery  of  Maria  and  her  Indian  son,  Tom, 
who  should,  by  this  time,  be  safe  in  Fort  Severn. 

"  If  I  had  not  done  as  I  did,  I  should  have  frozen 
to  death,"  he  concluded. 

"  Better  you  should,"  cried  the  factor  passionately, 
"  than  that  my  little  girl  should  be  ruined  for  life 
before  the  whole  world." 

"  How  will  she  be  ruined?  "  demanded  the  young 
man,  crisply.  "  No  one  knows  the  story  except 
Braithwalte  and  his  two  men,  and  I  think  we  can 
keep  their  mouths  closed  easily  enough." 

"  It  Is  impossible !  "  said  the  other.  "  You  know 
yourself  that  Napoleon  Sky's  tongue  is  swiveled  two 


I70  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

ways,  and  is  the  only  successful  perpetual-motion 
machine  ever  Invented.  If  we  bribed  them,  we  could 
be  held  up  regularly  for  blackmail,  and  even  that 
would  fail;  the  news  would  leak  out  somewhere.  I 
know  these  wild  places;  I  know  what  rumor  can  do. 
Perhaps,  the  wind  whispers  it;  perhaps,  the  birds 
carry  it,  or  the  streams  call  it  out  at  night.  What- 
ever is  done,  I  know  this :  that  rumor  will  leap  across 
a  practically  uninhabited  country  like  wild-fire,  and, 
by  the  time  the  brigades  come  down  in  the  spring, 
I  could  not  hold  my  head  up  among  the  curious  eyes, 
jerked  thumbs,  and  tongues  in  cheek.  What  I  want 
to  know,  Captain  McTavish,  Is,  what  can  you  do 
about  it?" 

"Is  the  Reverend  Mr.  Gates  In  the  camp?*' 

"  Yes." 

"  I'll  marry  Jean  this  afternoon,  providing  she 
will  have  me?  " 

"  You  shall  not!  "  cried  the  factor  suddenly,  with 
great  fierceness,  turning  his  fiery  eyes  upon  the 
younger  man  in  an  expression  of  hate.  "  You  shall 
not  —  ever!  " 

"  Really,  Mr.  Fitzpatrick,"  replied  Donald,  gently, 
"  I  cannot  agree  to  that,  and  I  might  as  well  tell 
you  now  that  I  Intend  to  marry  Jean  somewhere, 
some  time,  If  human  effort  can  bring  it  about,  and 
the  sooner  the  better." 

"  You  wouldn't  dare  say  that  to  me.  If  I  weren't 
laid  up,"  hissed  FItzpatrIck,  his  hands  clenching  and 
unclenching. 

"  \Yes,  sir,  I  would!     I  have  never  said  it  before, 


FEARFUL  DISCLOSURES  171 

because  I  hadn't  the  right.  Jean  loves  me,  and  will 
marry  me;  that  is  all  I  want  to  know." 

"And  you  leave  me,  her  father,  out  of  it?  You 
don't  even  ask  my  permission?  " 

"  Why  should  I?  You  said  I  should  never  marry 
her.  If  that  is  your  attitude,  I  don't  care  to  con- 
sult you;  I  shall  go  ahead  with  this  matter  in  my 
own  way." 

"  Look  here,  McTavish !  "  The  voice  was  sud- 
denly calm,  but  its  timbre  held  a  note  that  drew  Don- 
ald's immediate  attention.  "  Do  you  realize,  when 
you  say  that,  that  you  are  deliberately,  and  to  my 
face,  riding  over  all  authority,  not  only  from  the 
Company's  standpoint,  but  from  a  father's?  I  am 
talking  to  you  now  in  coolness,  and  I  ask  well-con- 
sidered replies.  Do  you  realize  that  you  are 
damning  yourself  forever  in  my  sight  by  your  words 
and  your  attitude?  " 

"  I  am  sorry,  sir,"  replied  the  other,  with  genuine 
regret;  "  but,  in  matters  of  this  kind,  I  can  only  con- 
sult my  own  feelings  and  determinations.  You  ask 
what  is  impossible  of  me;  I  ask  what  is  impossible  of 
you.  I  think  we  had  better  separate  while  out- 
wardly calm  to  avoid  any  more  useless  and  bitter 
words." 

"  I  am  glad  to  know  your  attitude,"  retorted  the 
factor,  dryly.  "  Now,  let  me  put  to  you  one  more 
question.  I  beseech  you,  for  your  own  good  and 
happiness,  to  answer  it  as  I  wish.  You  may  have 
a  week,  if  you  like  to  think  it  over.  I  ask  you,  for 
the  last  time :     Will  you  give  up  all  hope  or  thought 


172  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

of  ever  marrying  Jean?  Will  you  promise  never  to 
see  her  or  communicate  with  her  again?  Will  you 
retire  to  your  post,  and  stay  there  until  I  can  get 
you  shifted  to  the  West?  " 

With  the  lover,  there  could  be  but  one  answer, 
but,  for  some  almost  occult  reason,  he  hesitated. 
The  tone,  grave,  portentous,  almost  menacing,  the 
paternal,  kindly  attitude,  the  pleading  that  uncon- 
sciously crept  through  the  other's  words;  all  these 
gave  Donald  to  know  that  some  crisis  was  at  hand. 
For  an  instant,  he  thought  of  the  silent,  heavy  mo- 
ment before  the  breaking  of  a  summer  thunder- 
storm; and,  mentally,  he  prepared  himself  for  some 
sort  of  a  shock  —  what,  he  did  not  know.  Then, 
finally,  he  answered  the  factor's  questions. 

*'  I  do  not  need  a  week,  a  day,  or  an  hour,  to  think 
these  matters  over,"  he  said.  "  All  I  can  give  is  a 
final  and  inclusive,  *  No !  '  to  all  of  them." 

The  factor  stirred  in  his  place,  as  much  as  his 
wounded  shoulder  would  permit.  All  the  paternal 
was  gone  from  him  now,  and  all  the  pleading.  The 
eye  that  regarded  the  young  man  glittered  balefuUy, 
and  the  lips  were  parted  In  a  cruel  smile. 

"  Well,  sir,"  he  cried,  almost  triumphantly,  "  I 
shall  have  to  tell  you  then  that  it  is  impossible  for 
you  to  marry  Jean  under  any  circumstances." 

"Why?" 

"  Because,  sir,  you  are  not  the  legitimate  son  of 
Donald  McTavIsh,  chief  commissioner  of  this  com- 
pany. You  have  no  standing,  and  can  inherit  no 
money.     If   you    are   lucky,    you   may   marry   the 


FEARFUL  DISCLOSURES  173 

daughter  of  a  half-breed  some  time;  but  a  white 
girl,  even  a  poor  white  trapper's  daughter,  wouldn't 
have  you."  He  stopped,  and  watched  cunningly  the 
effect  of  his  words.  .  .  .  This  was  the  sweetest  mo- 
ment of  his  life. 

Donald,  for  his  part,  smiled  easily.  This  was 
merely  the  fabrication  of  a  feverish  brain,  he  told 
himself. 

"Will  you  kindly  explain  your  assertion,  sir?" 
he  asked.  "  You  haven't  yet  made  yourself  quite 
clear." 

"  I  mean,"  said  Fitzpatrick  bluntly,  "  that,  before 
your  father  married  your  mother  in  Montreal,  he 
had  contracted  a  previous  marriage  in  the  hunting- 
ground;  a  marriage  amply  attested,  of  which  the 
certificate  still  exists.  That,  of  course,  makes  his 
second  marriage  in  Montreal  illegal,  makes  him  a 
bigamist,  and  you  illegitimate.  Moreover  (and  this 
is  the  best  joke  of  all),  unknown  to  him  a  son  was 
born,  to  his  first  marriage,  and  that  son,  according 
to  law,  should  inherit  the  family  wealth  and  position. 
Now—" 

"Stop!  Stop!  You  fiend!"  shouted  Donald, 
his  hands  to  his  ears,  and  a  look  of  fury  on  his  face. 
"  Oh,  God !  If  you  weren't  lying  there,  if  your 
white  hairs  didn't  protect  you,  I  swear  to  heaven  Fd 
kill  you,  if  I  swung  for  it.  What  you  have  made  of 
my  mother!  What  you  have  made  of  her!"  It 
was  characteristic  of  his  nature  that  he  thought  of 
some  one  else  in  a  crisis.  So  it  had  been  in  his  boy- 
hood; so  it  was  now  when  the  structure  of  his  life 


174  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

came  tumbling  about  his  ears,  just  when  it  had 
seemed  for  a  little  while  most  beautiful. 

The  triumph  died  out  of  Fitzpatrick's  face,  and 
was  supplanted  by  an  expression  of  fear.  But  few 
times  had  he  ever  felt  fear,  bodily  fear.  This  was 
one  of  them.  Yet,  since  there  was  nothing  to  say, 
he  kept  silent.  Donald  walked  up  and  down  aim- 
lessly, until  he  had  won  some  measure  of  control 
over  himself,  his  body  shuddering  with  the  struggle. 
Then,  he  faced  his  persecutor. 

"How  do  you  know  this?''  he  asked,  in  a  thin 
voice  he  scarcely  recognized  as  his  own.  "  What 
proof  have  you?  Where  did  you  learn  it?  If  you 
can't  show  indisputable  proofs  for  every  word  you 
say,  I'll  have  you  bounded  out  of  the  Company  like 
a  dog.  I'll  hound  you  over  the  face  of  the  earth. 
I'll  never  let  you  rest,  until  you  drop  into  your  grave, 
and  then  I'll  keep  your  stinking  memory  green  as 
long  as  I  live." 

Fitzpatrick  smiled  evilly  beneath  his  mustache. 

"And,  if  you  do,"  he  asked,  "how  about  — 
Jean?" 

Trapped  by  his  own  vindictiveness,  Donald  could 
only  groan  aloud. 

"  Jean,  Jean !  "  he  muttered  in  desolation  of 
spirit,  "  I  wish  she  were  here  now."  Then,  to  Fitz- 
patrick: "  You  said  there  was  a  certificate.  Where 
is  it?     Who  has  it?     Who  is  the  woman?" 

"  That  I  won't  tell  you." 

In  one  bound,  Donald  had  leaped  to  the  side  of 
the  bunk.     He  seized  the  factor  by  his  wounded 


FEARFUL  DISCLOSURES  175 

shoulder,  and  shook  savagely,  growling  between  his 
teeth:  "You  won't,  eh,  you  won't  tell  me?  I'll 
see  about  that!  " 

The  old  man,  In  mortal  agony,  strove  to  writhe 
out  of  the  Iron  clutch.  He  tried  to  call  for  help, 
but  the  pain  was  too  great  for  words.  Finally,  a 
bellow  like  that  of  a  wounded  bull  escaped  from  be- 
tween his  grinding  teeth. 

"  Ye-es,  stop  —  I'll  tell  —  oh,  my  God  —  stop!  " 

Donald  released  his  hold,  and  the  factor,  with 
closed  eyes,  dropped  back,  half-fainting,  upon  the 
bunk,  where  he  lay  breathing  stertorously. 

"Speak!  Who  Is  the  woman?"  Donald  com- 
manded. 

"  Maria,  the  old  squaw,"  came  the  gasping  re- 
ply. 

"  Has  she  the  certificate?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  so;  I'm  not  sure.  She  had  it  last 
summer." 

"And  this  —  this  son  you  speak  of.  Is — ?" 
Donald  could  not  say  the  name. 

"  Charley  Seguis." 

Bewildered,  distraught,  blinded,  Donald  turned  on 
his  heel,  and,  groping  for  support,  staggered  from 
the  cabin. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  COMPANION  OF  MANY  TRAILS 

TNTO  the  minds  and  hearts  of  the  folk  who  live 
■*■  their  lives  In  the  wild,  there  are  bred  certain  ani- 
mal traits.  The  good  trapper  learns  that,  like  rab- 
bit or  bob-cat,  he  must  be  able  to  freeze  Into 
statuesque  immobility  at  the  sudden  appearance  of 
danger.  Nature,  who  does  her  best  to  protect  her 
children,  sees  to  it  that  the  trapper's  costume  soon 
resembles  nothing  so  much  as  a  hoary  tree-trunk. 
And  the  men  who  tramp  the  wild  gradually  assimi- 
late the  silent,  furtive  ways  of  the  Intelligent  forest 
folk.  The  wounded  caribou  drags  himself  to  some 
inaccessible  thicket,  there  either  to  gain  back  strength 
or  die  unobserved  and  alone.  Sickness  and  feeble- 
ness are  the  only  inexcusable  faults  of  wild  animal 
life,  and  offer  sufficient  reason  for  death  If  hunger 
Is  fierce.  Unconsciously,  Donald  McTavish  had  ab- 
sorbed the  trait  of  mute  sufferings  from  his  years  in 
the  heart  of  nature.  Not  only  had  he  absorbed  it, 
but  it  had  been  handed  down  to  him  through  gen- 
erations of  wilderness-loving  McTavishes;  It  was 
part  of  his  blood,  just  as  the  hatred  of  wolves  as 
destroyers  of  fur-bearing  game  was  part  of  it. 

So,  now,  with  this  burden  upon  his  heart  almost 
greater  than  he  could  bear,  he  hurried  through  the 

176 


COMPANION  OF  MANY  TRAILS     177 

camp,  seeing  no  one,  not  even  hearing  the  greetings 
of  friends  who  had  not  spoken  to  him  before.  At 
his  tent,  he  mechanically  fastened  on  his  snowshoes, 
and  strode  away  into  the  depths  of  the  forest  with 
his  hurt,  like  a  wounded  animal.  When,  finally,  the 
sounds  from  the  camp  no  longer  reached  him,  he  sat 
down  on  a  fallen  tree  that  broke  through  the  surface 
of  the  snow.  For  a  long  while,  he  did  not  reason : 
reason  was  beyond  him  now.  He  felt  as  though 
something  had  been  done  to  his  brain  that  rendered 
it  stunned  and  helpless.  Even  yet,  he  did  not  fully 
realize  the  thing  that  had  come  to  him. 

"That  fiend  lies,  curse  him;  he  lies,  I  say!"  he 
muttered,  presently. 

"  But  yet,  if  it  wasn't  true,  he  wouldn't  dare,"  was 
the  unanswerable  reply. 

He  knew  Angus  Fitzpatrick  well  enough  to  realize 
that  the  old  man  never  took  a  step  without  being 
sure  it  would  bear  his  weight.  He  had  always  been 
so.  It  was  not  likely  that  he  would  change  now, 
particularly  when  there  was  so  much  at  stake. 

And  yet,  what  had  he,  Donald  himself,  done? 
Nothing!  If  this  accusation  were  true,  it  only  re- 
flected on  his  father  and  his  father's  past.  The  son 
winced  at  that,  for  he  and  the  commissioner  had  al- 
ways been  the  best  of  companions.  He  could  not  be- 
lieve that  the  {inCy  tall,  distinguished  gentleman  of 
his  boyhood  tottered  thus  on  the  brink  of  ruin.  If 
so,  that  father's  ideals,  his  training,  his  life,  had  been 
one  long  hypocrisy. 

Personally  speaking,  this  sin  on  the  part  of  his 


178  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

father  seemed  utterly  impossible  to  Donald. 
Theoretically  speaking,  It  was  probable  enough,  for 
men  In  the  wilds  were  still  men,  with  the  call  of  na- 
ture strong  In  them,  and  It  was  the  usual  thing  for 
young  fellows  In  distant,  lonely  posts  to  marry  the 
daughters  of  chieftains.  In  fact,  there  was  not  a 
post  in  all  the  Hudson  Bay's  territory  of  which  he 
had  ever  heard  but  what  had  a  similar  romance  in 
its  records.  And,  while  in  Donald's  generation  the 
practise  had  fallen  off  greatly,  yet  in  those  before, 
it  had  been  considered  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary. 

Pondering  thus,  at  last  the  realization  came  that, 
although  his  father  had  done  these  things,  yet  it  was 
he,  the  son,  who  must  pay  for  them.  Old  FItzpatrick 
would  never  dare  beard  the  commissioner  in  his  high 
lair;  if  that  had  been  his  aim,  he  would  have  done 
it  long  since.  Why,  then,  had  the  factor  withheld 
his  bolt  until  now? 

Because  McTavish  loved  Jean?  Possibly.  That, 
at  least,  had  brought  the  matter  to  a  head.  But 
there  was  something  else,  deeper,  and  this  affair  with 
the  girl  had  given  opportunity  to  strike. 

Donald  thought  back.  Now  that  he  had  a  tangi- 
ble motive  in  view,  his  mind  shook  off  its  paralysis 
and  worked  more  easily;  he  was  more  his  former 
self.  He  remembered  that,  when  FItzpatrick  had 
first  gone  to  Fort  Severn,  the  elder  McTavish  had 
soon  followed  as  factor  at  York.  The  former  was 
the  senior  as  regarded  age,  but  the  latter  was  the 
bigger  man  in  every  way.  Consequently,  when  pro- 
motion came,  McTavish  had  been  elevated  over  the 


COMPANION  OF  MANY  TRAILS     179 

head  of  Fitzpatrick.  As  was  natural  with  any  man 
In  FItzpatrick's  position,  there  must  have  been  heart- 
burning and  jealousy. 

How  much  more  so,  if  that  man  were  narrow, 
choleric,  and  filled  with  a  blind  sense  of  loyalty  and 
service?  Donald  had  no  doubt  now  that  the  old 
factor  had  hidden  the  gall  of  disappointment  all 
these  years,  letting  It  poison  his  vitals  until  he  was 
venom  to  the  very  marrow  against  the  clan  of  Mc- 
Tavlsh.  His  sense  of  duty  and  reverence  for  office 
had  forbade  his  acting  against  the  new  commissioner, 
personally.  But,  when  the  commissioner's  son  came 
out  Into  the  calling  of  his  ancestors,  no  barriers  op- 
posed the  wreaking  of  his  long-delayed  vengeance. 
For  more  than  three  years,  Donald  had  been  In  the 
present  district.  He  was  convinced  that  during  all 
this  time  Fitzpatrick  had  been  rooting  among  the 
archives  of  his  father's  past  In  an  endeavor  to  un- 
earth something  he  might  use.  The  search  had  been 
unsuccessful  until  late  In  the  summer,  when  one  of 
his  spying  Indians  had  produced  Maria  and  her  claim 
from  the  far-off  Kanlaplskau  section  In  Ungava. 

Since  then,  the  machinery  had  worked  smoothly 
under  FItzpatrick's  direction,  and  now  the  stroke  had 
fallen.  But  though  his  own  suffering  must  be  the 
more  intense,  Donald  knew  that  the  blow  had  been 
aimed  to  glance  from  him  full  Into  the  face  of  his 
father.  For  the  elder  McTavIsh  had  no  higher 
dream  In  this  world  than  that  his  only  son  should  rise 
to  honor  and  distinction  In  the  traditional  family 
profession. 


i8o  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

"  If  I  am  chief  commissioner,"  he  reasoned, 
"  there  is  every  opportunity  for  my  son  to  become 
governor,  achieve  a  baronetcy,  and  found  an  Eng- 
lish line."  This  was  the  dream  of  his  life,  and  he 
had  intimated  as  much  to  Donald  on  their  last  meet- 
ing, two  years  before. 

It  was  the  foundation  of  this  dream  that  Fitz- 
patrick  was  now  prepared  to  sweep  away.  Already, 
the  flood  of  rumor  and  ill  repute  was  tearing  at 
the  base  of  it.  For  a  time,  Donald  forgot  his  own 
misery  in  the  realization  of  what  it  would  all  mean 
to  his  father.  More  clearly,  now,  he  saw  the  careful 
plans,  the  perfect  details,  the  inevitable  conclusion. 

"  If  only  murder  weren't  against  the  law !  "  he 
muttered,  twisting  his  fingers  together  until  they 
cracked. 

And,  then,  there  came  to  him  the  one  possible 
solution  to  the  whole  difficulty.  He  could  sweep 
everything  away  by  his  own  sacrifice.  Now,  in  fif- 
teen minutes,  he  could  still  these  evil  voices  by  going 
back  to  Fitzpatrick  and  accepting  the  old  man's  con- 
ditions, never  to  communicate  with  Jean  again  and 
to  be  transferred  to  the  far  West. 

Never  to  communicate  with  Jean  again!  Never 
to  touch  her  hand  or  her  hair !  Never  to  hear  her 
voice!  To  go  on  thus  for  a  week,  for  a  month, 
for  endless  weeks  and  months  and  years  —  forever  I 
heaven!  He  could  not  do  it!  Had  he  no  rights? 
Was  he  to  be  the  helpless  manikin  worked  by  every 
string  of  evil  circumstance  and  voice  of  ill? 

Yet,  what  other  way  was  there?    He  could  not 


COMPANION  OF  MANY  TRAILS     i8i 

wantonly  haul  the  figure  of  his  father  down  from  its 
pedestal  of  blameless  life.  And  his  mother  and  sis- 
ter I  Theirs  would  Indeed  be  a  frightful  position. 
No,  there  was  no  other  way  out. 

What  explanation  of  his  desertion  would  ever  be 
vouchsafed  to  Jean,  he  did  not  know.  He  would 
try  to  communicate  with  her  before  he  went.  It 
would  be  hard  on  her,  this  separation,  particularly 
if  reasons  could  not  be  given.  She  would  never  un- 
derstand. She  would  go  through  life  blaming  him, 
perhaps,  in  the  depths  of  her  heart.  ...  As  for  him- 
self, his  own  future  was  the  thing  that  concerned  him 
least.  He  would  start  again,  he  supposed,  and  work 
up  once  more.     Nothing  mattered  much,  now. 

Resolved  to  have  another  immediate  interview 
with  FItzpatrick,  Donald  got  slowly  to  his  feet,  and 
began  to  retrace  his  steps  to  the  camp.  He  had  not 
gone  a  dozen  yards  when  a  sharp  voice  called  out, 
"Halt!" 

McTavish  swung  around,  and  found  himself  look- 
ing Into  the  muzzle  of  a  rifle  that  projected  from  be- 
hind a  tree-trunk. 

But  he  had  no  sooner  turned  than  a  joyful  cry  rang 
out,  and  a  man  appeared  running  toward  him.  A 
moment  later,  he  recognized  Peter  Rainy.  Glad  be- 
yond words  to  see  a  friendly  face,  Donald  put  his 
arms  about  the  faithful  old  Indian,  and  clung  to  him 
desperately,  as  a  frightened  child  clings  to  Its  mother. 

"Master,  master,  what  is  It?"  cried  Peter, 
amazed  and  frightened. 

But  the  young  man  did  not  reply  for  a  while. 


1 82  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

Then,  he  sat  down  with  his  comrade  of  many  trails. 

"  Tell  me  what  happened  to  you,  first,  and  then 
ril  give  you  the  queerest  half-hour  you  ever  had,*' 
he  said. 

And  Rainy  told  his  story:  The  night  Maria 
struck  down  Donald,  she  did  as  much  for  Peter,  but 
with  a  different  purpose.  No  sooner  had  he  been 
rendered  helpless  than  he  had  been  bound  to  one  of 
the  sledges.  Then,  both  dog-trains  had  been  har- 
nessed, and  a  midnight  march  begun.  Where  they 
had  gone,  for  days  Rainy  did  not  know,  and  his  com- 
panions did  not  enlighten  him.  At  last,  one  morn- 
ing when  it  was  snowing  heavily,  the  Indians  did  a 
characteristic  thing.  They  tied  him  securely  to  a 
tree  with  ropes,  the  ends  of  which  were  in  the  camp- 
fire.  A  little  powder  was  sprinkled  here  and  there 
to  aid  the  flames  that  slowly  crawled  toward  the 
captive.  Beside  him  they  put  a  rifle  and  some  am- 
munition, along  with  a  small  pack  of  provisions; 
but  they  took  both  dog-trains.  The  idea  was  that, 
when  the  ropes  had  been  eaten  away  by  fire  the  fall- 
ing snow  would  have  covered  the  tracks  of  the  flying 
pair,  so  that  Rainy  could  not  pursue  them. 

What  with  the  fear  of  bob-cats  and  panthers,  the 
Indian  had  passed  a  harrowing  half-day,  and,  as  soon 
as  loosed,  he  started  straight  for  Sturgeon  Lake. 
The  reason  Maria  had  traveled  around  with  him  so 
long,  Peter  explained,  was  that  they  wanted  to  be 
sure  of  McTavish's  death  before  the  old  trapper 
should  be  released,  and  could  start  in  search  of  hh 
master. 


COMPANION  OF  MANY  TRAILS     183 

When  the  narrative  of  danger  and  duplicity  was 
finished,  Donald  took  hold  of  Peter's  arm. 

"  How  long  were  you  with  my  father?  "  he  asked. 

"  From  the  time  he  came  to  York  factory  until 
he  was  married  In  Montreal.  I  stayed  a  year  with 
him  there,  but  found  I  was  dying  of  homesickness 
for  the  woods,  and  had  to  get  back  to  them.  But 
I  went  up  when  you  were  born,  and  saw  him  and 
you  regularly  every  year  after  that,  until  he  was 
ready  to  send  you  into  the  woods  in  the  summer- 
time." 

"  But  before  he  came  to  York  factory?  Do  you 
know  anything  of  his  life  then?  " 

"  Only  hearsay.  Stories  of  his  brave  deeds  and 
big  hunting  on  the  Labrador  and  westward!  He 
had  a  sense  of  game  that  comes  very  rarely;  he 
moved  with  the  animals  instinctively,  so  that  the  best 
pelts  were  always  his.  And  he  had  luck.  One  year, 
he  brought  in  three  of  the  six  silver-fox  skins  taken 
that  winter  In  the  whole  of  Canada.  'He  was  a 
wonderful  hunter.'' 

"  But,  Peter,  did  you  ever  hear  anything  about 
his  relations  with  the  Indians?"  Donald  demanded. 
"  Was  he  ever  fond  of  a  chief's  daughter?  Did  he 
ever  mar — ?"  One  look  at  the  old  Indian's  face 
stopped  the  question,  for,  caught  unaware,  the  rising 
of  this  skeleton  shook  Rainy  to  the  depths. 

"  No,  master,  no,  n-o,  n-n  — " 

"  Peter,  don't  lie  to  me !  You've  never  done  it 
yet.  I'm  in  too  much  trouble  to  be  lied  to.  I  know 
the  truth  now,  despite  your  denials,  so  you  might  as 


1 84  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

well  admit  it.  Didn't  my  father  marry  old  Maria 
at  one  time?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Peter  simply.  "  But  how  did  you 
know  it?" 

Then,  Donald  told  his  story  in  full,  closing  with 
his  determination  to  go  to  the  factor  and  accept  the 
conditions  imposed. 

But,  at  that,  Peter  Rainy  protested  violently. 

"No,"  he  cried,  "never!  Put  no  trust  in  that 
old  wolf,  Fitzpatrick.  Once  he  has  got  you  under 
his  heel,  he'll  grind  and  grind,  until  there's  not  as 
much  as  powder  left.  What  good  for  you  to  go 
away  West,  eh?  He'll  let  you  get  started  well,  and 
then  along  will  come  queer  rumors  and  unexplained 
things  about  you.  At  last,  something  will  drive  you 
away,  and  you'll  start  again.  Once  more,  you'll  be 
driven  out,  and  so  it  will  go.  Do  I  not  know? 
Have  I  not  seen  it  work?  " 

"  But  I  can't  resist  him,  and  have  my  whole  fam- 
ily dragged  through  the  mud,  can  I?"  Donald  re- 
monstrated, in  despair. 

"  Yes,  this  man  Fitzpatrick  is  bound  to  drag  it 
through  the  mud  anyway.  He  hasn't  waited 
all  these  years  for  his  revenge  to  let  it  slide 
through  his  hands  that  easily,  has  he,  do  you  sup- 
pose? His  whole  happiness  in  life  now  rests  on 
your  disgrace  and  that  of  your  family.  It  will  come, 
whatever  you  may  do,  and  it's  much  better  to  fight 
to  the  last  wolf  than  put  your  trust  in  a  man  like  the 
factor." 

So,  they  talked  for  more  than  an  hour,   Peter 


COMPANION  OF  MANY  TRAILS     185 

Rainy  heartening  his  young  master  in  this  desperate 
plight.  The  old  Indian  declared  that  a  woman  as 
malicious  as  Maria  must  have  her  vulnerable  spot, 
that  she  might  be  bribed;  in  fact,  that  a  hundred 
ways  of  removing  the  obstruction  might  be  come  at. 
Presently,  Donald  caught  a  little  of  his  companion's 
fire,  and  began  to  warm  to  the  project. 

"  Peter,''  he  cried  finally,  "  I'll  do  it  on  one  con- 
dition, and  that  condition  may  be  the  death  of  you." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  That  you  start  to-night  for  Winnipeg,  and  bring 
my  father  North.  Upon  him  really  rests  the  burden 
of  blame  and  of  proof;  if  he  wants  to  save  himself 
and  the  rest  of  us,  he  must  come  out  here  and  do  it." 

"  Wisely  spoken,  my  son.  The  thought  was  In 
my  mind.  When  I  arrive  in  Winnipeg,  your  father 
will  know  I  have  crossed  the  wastes  for  only  one 
thing  —  and  he  will  come." 

"  Then,  you  go  willingly?  " 

"  I  should  never  forgive  you,  if  I  hadn't  been 
sent." 

"Brave  old  Peter!"  McTavish  put  his  arm 
across  the  old  Indian's  shoulders  affectionately,  as 
had  been  his  custom  when,  a  boy,  he  had  gone  on  his 
first,  short  canoeing  expeditions.  "  If  it  weren't  for 
you,  where  would  the  McTavishes  be?  If  we  come 
out  of  this  safely,  you  can  have  a  house  and  serv- 
ants of  your  own  the  rest  of  your  life." 

"I  know;  your  father  has  told  me  that  for  the 
last  ten  years;  but  I  can't  stand  it,  Donald.  My 
little  money  in  your  father's  hands  has  grown  big 


i86  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

the  way  white  men  make  it  grow  in  banks,  but  I  shall 
never  touch  it.  The  wild  is  too  much  part  of  me.  Vd 
rather  battle  with  winter's  cold  under  an  abuckwan, 
and  running  my  line  of  traps,  than  live  in  the  finest 
house  in  Winnipeg.  Some  time,  when  I'm  old,  and 
the  winter  winds  shake  me  to  the  marrow,  I'll  build 
a  little  cabin  by  a  fishing  stream  or  lake,  and  live 
happily  until  the  coming  of  the  shadow.  Many 
young  men  and  maidens  will  look  after  me,  for  I'm 
rich.  So,  I'll  never  want  for  anything  in  my  old  age, 
except  the  sight  of  my  master,  who  will  then  be  gone 
from  the  forest  trails." 

"Good  old  Peter!"  Donald  exclaimed,  huskily. 
He  rose  suddenly,  the  tears  in  his  eyes.  He  fumbled 
with  his  gun  uncertainly  while  the  Indian  filled  a 
pipe.     Then,  he  gave  his  directions. 

They  were  far  enough  from  the  camp  for  Rainy 
to  remain  unobserved  all  day.  McTavish  would 
return  among  his  companions,  and  buy  a  dog-train 
if  he  could  get  one,  giving  as  an  excuse  the  fact  of 
his  own  being  drowned.  He  would  secure  pro- 
visions, and  meet  Rainy  on  the  edge  of  the  camp  at 
night.     He  specified  where. 

Both  knew  that  to  get  the  Indian  off  unknown  and 
unseen  on  his  long  journey  would  be  a  desperately 
difficult  thing  to  do,  particularly  as  the  young  man 
would  be  watched;  but,  as  the  need  was  great,  so 
was  the  determination,  and  Donald  started  for  the 
camp  with  a  light  heart. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IN  NEW  CLUTCHES 

T?OUR  hundred  and  fifty  miles  southwest  of  Stur- 
■*■  geon  Lake,  as  the  hawk  flies,  Is  Winnipeg  — 
formerly  the  Fort  Garry  of  Hudson  Bay  fame,  and 
before  that  the  Fort  Douglas  of  battle,  murder,  and 
sudden  death.  As  Peter  Rainy  expected  to  make  the 
journey,  the  distance  was  nearer  seven  hundred  miles. 
From  Sturgeon  Lake,  he  would  strike  east  to  the 
north  branch  of  the  Sachlgo,  and  follow  that  down 
to  Its  junction  with  the  main  river.  Then,  turning 
south,  for  two  hundred  miles,  his  would  be  a  straight 
course  up  the  Sachlgo  and  through  a  chain  of  lakes 
that  almost  would  carry  him  to  Sandy  Lake.  South- 
west, he  would  rush  through  Favorable  Lake,  Deer 
Lake,  Little  Trout,  and  unimportant  waterways,  un- 
til he  reached  Fort  Alexander  on  a  thumb  of  Lake 
Winnipeg  (that  three-hundred-mlle  terror).  Dis- 
counting blizzards,  he  could  make  seventy-five  miles 
a  day  down  that  fine  waterway  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Red  River,  and,  from  there,  thirty-five  miles  would 
land  him  In  the  thriving  capital  of  Manitoba. 

Such  was  the  course  that  McTavIsh  pricked  for 
him  on  a  map,  and  the  old  Indian  studied  It  all  that 
day,  until  It  was  a  part  of  the  vast  lore  that  lay  be- 
hind his  expressionless  eyes. 

187 


1 88  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

Night  fell,  and  a  pure  moon  rose  out  of  the 
east,  spreading  a  flood  of  light  over  snow-fields  and 
through  forest  aisles.  Peter  Rainy  cursed  heartily 
at  the  misfortune,  and,  as  if  the  sky  spirits  were 
afraid  of  him,  a  great  mass  of  solemn  clouds  bulked 
out  of  the  northwest,  and  extinguished  the  gay  young 
moon  forthwith.  They  brought  with  them  a  bitter 
wind  and  a  snowstorm,  so  that  when  he  finally  strug- 
gled down  the  blast,  Donald  almost  overran  his  ob- 
jective point.  With  him  were  a  sledge,  dog-train, 
and  provisions.  In  answer  to  Rainy's  inquiries,  he 
merely  said: 

"  I'm  on  parole,  and  can  go  anywhere,  and,  as 
for  these  things  —  I  have  friends  in  the  camp !  " 

Loath  to  part  with  his  faithful  companion,  he  ac- 
companied the  Indian  a  little  way  on  the  journey, 
and  then  returned  to  the  camp,  happier  and  more 
hopeful  than  he  had  been  in  many  hours. 

Because  of  the  storm,  shed-tents  had  been  set  up, 
and  the  men  were  gathered  under  them  for  the  night. 
Entering  that  of  the  trappers  with  whom  he  had 
camped  the  night  before,  Donald  comfortably  lighted 
his  pipe,  and  started  In  to  satisfy  his  curiosity  in  re- 
gard to  the  campaign  that  had  already  been  carried 
on  against  the  Free-Traders'  Brotherhood.  His 
companions,  one  of  whom  was  TImmins,  a  clerk  In 
the  Company's  store  at  Fort  Severn,  and  the  other  a 
trader  at  the  warehouse,  enlightened  him. 

"  For  a  week  now,"  said  TImmins,  spitting  into 
the  fire  contemplatively,  "  there  hasn't  been  much 
doing.     But,  before  that,  shots  popped  around  here 


IN  NEW  CLUTCHES  18$ 

considerable.  FItzpatrick  thought,  and  still  thinks, 
I  guess,  that  the  only  way  to  nip  this  free-trader  busi- 
ness in  the  bud  was  to  go  at  it  in  the  old-fashioned 
way,  with  bullets.  So,  as  soon  as  we  had  a  camp  here, 
we  started  after  those  fellows.  But  they  were  ready 
for  us,  and,  when  it  was  all  over,  three  or  four  of 
our  men  were  wounded,  and  nothing  was  accom- 
plished. The  factor  got  a  touch  himself,  as  you 
know,  and,  since  that,  there  hasn't  been  much  doing. 
The  old  bear  is  trying  to  work  out  a  scheme  that'll 
finish  things  once  and  for  all." 

"  I  expect  there'll  be  action  pretty  soon,  won't 
there?"  Donald  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  reckon  there  will.  Now  that  you've 
brought  Miss  Jean  back,  and  the  old  man's  mind  is 
easy,  I  imagine  he'll  have  a  brand  new  way  for  us 
to  die  worked  out  in  a  short  while." 

"What  are  these  fellows  free  trading  for,  any- 
how? Don't  we  treat  them  right?  "  Donald  ques- 
tioned, with  loyal   indignation. 

"Aw,  sure  we  do,"  drawled  Buxton,  the  trader; 
"  too  right,  I  guess.  If  they  had  the  old  discipline 
in  force,  I  guess  they'd  know  who  was  good  to  them. 
These  fellers  have  got  a  grand  idea  of  their  own 
importance,  that  fellow  Seguis  especially,  and  they've 
bargained  with  a  French  fur  company,  as  far  as  I 
can  gather.  The  Frenchies  have  been  successful  in 
the  Rockies  and  on  the  Mackenzie,  and  they're  figur- 
ing on  starting  a  post  or  so  in  this  territory.  Of 
course,  they  offer  better  terms  than  we  do  —  more 
tobacco  and  flour  and  truck  for  a  *  beaver  '  of  fur  — 


190  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

but  I  don't  think  they  can  make  headway  —  at  least, 
not  against  old  Fitzpatrick.  He's  as  set  as  a  hill,  as 
tough  as  an  old  oak  limb,  and  as  cussed  as  a  stoat." 

From  time  immemorial  in  the  fur  trade,  all  barter- 
ing has  been  carried  on  in  terms  of  "  beaver."  That 
Is,  a  prime  beaver  skin  Is  the  unit  of  currency  be- 
tween the  Company  and  its  hunters.  Not  long  since, 
an  otter  skin  equaled  ten  "  beaver,"  twenty  rabbit 
equaled  one  "  beaver,"  one  marten  equaled  two  and 
a  half  "  beaver  " ;  and  so  on  down,  or  up,  the  scale. 
.  .  .  This,  from  the  Company's  point  of  view. 

From  that  of  the  hunter,  a  *'  beaver  "  in  trade 
(usually  represented  by  a  stamped  leaden  counter), 
was  worth  so  much  in  merchandise  —  a  large  red 
handkerchief,  or  a  hunting-knife,  or  a  looking-glass. 
Two  *'  beaver  "  would  buy  an  ax,  twenty  a  gun  of  a 
certain  quality,  and  so  on  through  the  list  of  neces- 
sities. 

When  a  hunter  brings  in  his  bales  of  fur,  He  takes 
them  to  the  warehouse,  where  they  are  assorted  and 
appraised  by  the  chief  trader,  after  much  haggling. 
When  the  value  is  determined,  the  trader  pushes  over 
the  counter  as  many  "  beaver  "  (lead  pellets) ,  as  the 
furs  are  worth.  The  hunter  takes  these  to  the  store, 
and,  after  much  travail  and  advice,  exchanges  them 
for  winter  supplies  and  gewgaws  that  strike  his  fancy. 
In  this  primitive  way  is  wrought  the  gigantic  trade 
that  covers  woman  with  fur,  from  queens  with  their 
ermine  to  the  shop-girl  with  her  scraggly  muskrat 
or  rabbit. 

As  the  talk  went  on  around  him,  McTavish  rec- 


IN  NEW  CLUTCHES  191 

ognized  the  old  story  of  the  free-traders,  men  who 
hunted  and  trapped  without  any  definite  allegiance 
to  one  company  or  another,  and  disposed  of  their 
catch  to  the  best  advantage.  As  he  had  known  all 
his  life,  the  "  barrens  "  about  Hudson  Bay  remained 
the  only  country  that  had  successfully  kept  the  in- 
dependents at  bay.  There  had  been  other  attempts 
at  intrusion,  many  of  them ;  but  none  so  well  organ- 
ized or  determined  in  spirit  as  this  present  one.  The 
old,  inbred  loyalty  to  the  Company  told  him  that  free- 
traders must  be  got  out  of  the  way.  As  far  as  he 
was  concerned,  he  hoped  action  would  come  quickly 
—  he  did  not  wish  too  much  time  by  himself  to  think. 

Finally,  Timmins  yawned,  and  suggested  that  they 
turn  in.  But  McTavish  was  restless.  He  slipped 
on  his  snowshoes,  declared  he  would  be  back  shortly, 
and  left  the  tent.  The  nervous  reaction  of  all  the 
excitement  of  the  last  day  was  in  him,  and  he  felt 
that  he  needed  the  physical  battling  and  buffeting  of 
the  storm  to  calm  the  throbbing  of  his  brain  and  set- 
tle him  for  the  night.  Drawing  his  capote  close 
around  his  face,  he  bent  to  the  blast,  and  shuffled 
along.  Suddenly,  he  felt  the  nearness  of  a  presence, 
and  raised  his  head,  just  in  time  to  prevent  going  full 
into  the  wall  of  a  log  cabin.  He  recoiled  with  a 
muttered  curse,  for  there  was  only  one  cabin  in  the 
settlement,  and  that  belonged  to  Fitzpatrlck. 

Yes,  it  belonged  to  Fitzpatrlck,  and  now  it  be- 
longed to  some  one  else  also  —  some  one  for  whom 
longing  had  gnawed  at  McTavish's  heart  all  day. 
Once,  during  the  afternoon,  when  he  was  secretly  ar- 


192  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

ranging  for  Peter  Ralny's  supplies,  he  had  seen  her 
at  a  distance,  and  she  had  waved  to  him,  happily. 
What  did  she  know?  he  wondered.  Had  her  father 
done  his  worst,  and  told  her?  Now,  his  arms 
yearned  for  the  feel  of  her  slim,  straight  body;  he 
yearned  to  hear  her  voice,  to  look  into  her  face. 

Suddenly,  some  one  bending  to  the  storm  as  he 
had  done,  bumped  full  into  him,  and  he  heard  a 
sweet  voice : 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon !  " 

"Jean!"  he  cried  joyously,  and  she  raised  her 
head. 

"Donald!" 

The  next  instant,  she  was  in  his  arms,  clinging  to 
him  with  an  abandon  of  passion  he  had  never  sus- 
pected in  her.  It  thrilled  him  from  head  to  foot. 
Presently,  he  led  her  from  the  proximity  of  the  cabin 
to  the  shelter  of  a  large  tree  at  the  edge  of  the 
camp. 

"Oh,  I  couldn't  sleep;  I  couldn't  even  try,  so  I 
told  father  I  was  going  to  take  a  turn  or  two  down 
the  main  *  street '  of  tents,"  she  cried,  in  answer  to 
Donald's  question.  "  And  to  think  of  meeting  you ! 
I'm  so  glad!" 

"  Are  you  really  glad,  princess?  "  he  asked,  trying 
to  pierce  the  gloom  and  the  storm  to  see  the  expres- 
sion of  her  face.     "  Hasn't  he  told  you?  " 

"Who  told  me?     What?" 

"  Your  father.  This  morning,  he  and  I  had  a 
very  unpleasant  interview,  in  which  he  opened  up  all 
his  big  guns.     He  finally  silenced  me  entirely.     What 


IN  NEW  CLUTCHES  193 

the  trouble  was,  and  what  influences  he  brought  to 
bear,  I  can't  tell  you,  Jean.  If  he  wants  you  to  know, 
he'll  tell  you.  It  is  his  object  to  ruin  me  in  your 
sight.  He  has  the  facts,  and,  I  fear,  the  proofs,  that 
make  marriage  between  us  almost  an  impossibility; 
at  any  rate  I'm  sure  your  father  would  shoot  me 
before  he  would  let  the  event  take  place." 

"Oh,  what  is  it,  Donald?  You  frighten  me!" 
cried  the  girl.  "  You  frighten  me  with  these  in- 
definite hints  and  uncertainties.  I  beg  of  you  to  tell 
me  what  the  trouble  is.  I'll  stand  by  you  through 
anything.  Do  you  suppose  I  care  whether  my  father 
will  allow  us  to  marry  or  not?  No,  no,  Donald;  I 
think  for  myself  now,  as  you  once  said  I  should. 
Perhaps,  I  think  too  much.     I  —  I  — " 

"What  do  you  mean,  dearest?"  The  girl  had 
stopped,  as  though  embarrassed. 

"  I  mean  —  I  know  you'll  be  ashamed  of  me,  I 
mean  —  couldn't  we,  to-night  —  Mr.  Gates  Is  in 
camp,  and  he  will — " 

"Marry  us?" 

"  Yes,  Donald."  And  she  hid  her  face  against 
him,  a  face  that  flushed  hotly  and  excitedly. 

He  caught  her  close  during  a  delicious  moment, 
for  the  storm  held  a  privacy  that  was  almost  im- 
penetrable.    Then,  with  a  groan,  he  released  her. 

"  Jean,"  he  said  earnestly,  "  I  can't  do  it.  I 
would  sell  my  soul  to  marry  you  to-night  —  yes, 
actually  sell  it  to  the  devil;  but,  as  a  man  who  pre- 
tends to  be  honorable  in  his  dealings,  I  can't.  Oh, 
it  simply  kills  me,  this  refusal;  but  the  fact  of  it  is 


194  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

that  I  love  you  too  much  to  risk  your  future  happi- 
ness." 

"  Oh,  boy,  boy !  "  she  cried  pitifully.  "  What  can 
be  happiness  for  me  but  the  having  of  you  always? 
If  youVe  done  wrong,  I  want  you.  Whatever  this 
awful  thing  is  that  is  ruining  our  lives,  I  don't  care. 
I  only  know  one  thing,  and  that'is  /  want  you!** 

Had  he  known  women  as  some  men  know  them, 
Donald  would  have  taken  her  tone  and  her  passion  as 
passports  to  heaven,  and  hunted  up  the  fat  and  spec- 
tacled Mr.  Gates  then  and  there,  and  this  story  would 
have  ended.  But  he  did  not.  He  was  straightfor- 
ward and  unsophisticated  in  a  manly  way,  and  knew 
his  duty;  and  he  also  knew  it  was  not  now  that  Jean 
might  regret  her  step,  but  at  that  important  point  of 
life  Pinero  has  so  aptly  named  "  mid-channel,"  when 
the  fire  of  youth  has  burned  out,  and  the  main  con- 
cern is  with  the  ashes  remaining. 

So,  with  the  perfume  of  happiness  in  his  nostrils, 
he  put  the  temptation  from  him,  and  told  Jean  over 
and  over  that  she  must  believe  him  to  be  acting  for 
the  best  when  he  laid  their  lives  out  on  such  lines  of 
misery.  And  she,  after  a  while,  believed,  as  he  de- 
sired, and  asked  no  more.  Then,  he  told  her  that 
to  know  the  things  against  him  would*  make  her  still 
more  unhappy,  since  they  were  not  of  his  doing. 

"  You'll  hear  many  things  about  me  that  are  not 
true,  and  never  could  be,"  Donald  said  at  the  last; 
"  but  don't  believe  them.  For  I  have  done  nothing 
wrong.  All  I  ask  is  your  faith  and  trust  in  me. 
With  them,  I'll  willingly  go  through  the  valley  of 


IN  NEW  CLUTCHES  195 

the  shadow,  that  In  the  end,  some  time,  somewhere, 
we  may  be  happy." 

"  Those  you  shall  have  always,"  was  the  reply; 
"  and  something  else,  too,  whenever  you  want  It." 

"What  Is  that?" 

"  A  wife." 

He  kissed  her  full  upon  the  lips,  and  reluctantly  let 
her  go. 

Through  the  storm  a  faint,  muffled  report  sounded, 
as  though  a  rifle  had  been  fired;  the  two  listened  In- 
tently. But  they  heard  nothing  more,  and  Donald 
miserably  watched  Jean  push  open  the  rude  door  of 
the  little  cabin.  Only  when  FItzpatrlck's  voice 
sounded  did  he  turn  away. 

Next  morning,  the  sky  had  cleared,  and  there  was 
a  considerable  show  of  activity  In  the  camp,  as  though 
some  secret  orders  had  been  Issued.  The  men  had 
not  much  more  than  finished  breakfast  when  a  trap- 
per, who  had  been  out  still-hunting  game  at  sunrise, 
cam.e  running  In  at  the  top  of  his  speed,  waving  his 
rifle  over  his  head.  No  sooner  was  he  within  reach 
than  he  was  surrounded  by  a  circle  of  the  curious. 

"  There's  the  deuce  to  pay  for  somebody,  boys," 
he  cried,  "  for  I  just  found  the  body  of  Indian  Tom, 
old  Maria's  son,  out  there  In  the  woods.  A  bullet 
hole  In  the  back  did  the  trick.  He  was  carrying  a 
gun,  but  It's  still  loaded  and  his  cartridge-belt's  full, 
so  he  couldn't  have  done  the  job  himself.  I  reached 
him  just  as  he  rattled  off,  so  It  wasn't  very  long  ago. 
Now,  I  don't  know  who  had  It  In  for  him.  He  was 
'way  beyond  the  sentry  lines,  and  we're  twenty  miles 


196  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

from  the  other  camp.  ...  I  wonder  it  any  of  the 
boys  were  out  in  the  woods  last  night?  '* 

Donald,  who  had  not  heard  the  first  of  the  speech, 
caught  the  last  sentence,  and  made  inquiries.  When 
he  learned  the  facts,  he  laughed  shortly. 

*'  Well,  boys,"  he  remarked,  "  I  was  out  in  the 
woods  last  night;  in  fact,  I  heard  the  shot  that  fin- 
ished Indian  Tom  off." 

"Out  in  the  woods?  What  were  you  doing  out  in 
the  woods  in  a  storm  like  that,  McTavish?  "  some- 
one demanded. 

Donald  hesitated,  and  bit  his  lip  with  vexation. 
He  was  trapped.  It  was  next  to  the  last  thing  in 
his  mind  to  let  Peter  Rainy's  departure  and  goal 
become  known,  and  it  was  the  last  to  let  Jean's  name 
be  brought  into  any  of  his  doings.  But  he  was  not 
a  good  liar,  and  he  groped  frantically  for  an  adequate 
answer. 

"  Come  on  —  out  with  it!  Is  it  so  hard  to  re- 
member?" drawled  Buxton. 

Still,  Donald  could  not  say  anything.  He  laughed 
uneasily,  and  a  flush  mounted  to  his  hair. 

"  I  guess,  boys,"  he  finally  blurted  out,  "  Fd  rather 
not  say;  it  was  a  private  matter." 

The  men  looked  at  one  another,  and  were  silent. 
Finally,  one,  bolder  than  the  rest,  cleared  his  throat. 

"  Didn't  you  give  Tom  an  awful  thrashing  a  little 
while  back?  "  he  asked,  significantly. 

The  flush  became  deeper  on  McTavish's  face. 

"  It's  none  of  your  darned  business,  my  friend,"  he 
replied,  acidly.     "  But  I'll  answer  your  question.     I 


IN  NEW  CLUTCHES  197 

did  give  him  a  good  licking,  and  he  deserved  it. 
How  did  you  find  it  out?  " 

"  I  dunno.  It's  just  one  of  those  things  that 
drifted  in.  I  couldn't  tell  you  now  who  sprung  it. 
But  I'm  mighty  sorry  you  did  it." 

"Why?" 

"  Because,  Captain  McTavish,  there  is  nothing  to 
do  but  hold  you  on  suspicion.  That's  the  least 
charge  that  can  be  made  against  you.  Andrew,  go 
tell  the  factor  what's  happened,  and  say  we'll  bring 
McTavish  in  shortly." 

"  Look  here,  boys,  you're  not  going  to  try  and  put 
that  Indian's  death  on  me,  are  you?  "  Donald  cried, 
aghast. 

"  Sorry,  Mac;  but  what  you  yourself  have  admit- 
ted Is  enough  to  lock  you  up,  accused  of  murder  in 
the  first  degree." 

"  Heaven!  "  groaned  Donald  to  himself.  "  Can 
anything  else  come  to  me?  " 

A  little  later,  as  he  looked  down  upon  Angus  Fitz- 
patrlck,  lying  on  the  bed  of  boughs,  it  seemed  as 
though  the  old  man  had  had  a  turn  for  the  worse. 
Donald  recalled  his  grip  on  that  wounded  shoulder, 
and  smiled  Inwardly  with  pleasure,  for  his  spirit  was 
still  bitterly  vindictive. 

"  Really,  McTavish,"  was  the  factor's  firm  greet- 
ing, "  I  never  knew  any  one  to  come  up  before  me 
as  regularly  and  for  as  many  varieties  of  crime  as 
you  do.  Too  bad  you  don't  devote  that  splendid  in- 
genuity to  something  worthy." 

Donald  smiled  pleasantly,  and  inquired  after  the 


198  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

Injured  shoulder,  a  question  that  turned  the  old  man's 
sarcasm  Into  fury,  for  he  had  scarcely  slept  the  night 
before,  what  with  the  pain  of  his  wound,  and  the 
nervous  shock  of  the  day. 

"  Well,"  he  snarled  to  the  others,  "  what  brings 
him  here  now?  " 

A  spokesman  told  what  had  already  occurred  out- 
side, and  FItzpatrIck  listened  Intently.  With  a  few 
rapid  questions,  he  made  certain  that  Indian  Tom 
could  not  have  perpetrated  the  deed  himself,  either 
purposely  or  accidentally.  Then,  he  turned  to  the 
accused. 

"  Just  where  were  you  when  you  heard  the  shot,  as 
you  claim?'*  he  Inquired,  curtly. 

Donald  declared  he  had  been  at  the  edge  of  the 
camp,  naming  a  certain  spot,  and  the  man  who  had 
found  the  body  Identified  the  place  as  well  within  gun- 
shot of  the  scene  of  the  tragedy. 

"  Do  you  believe,"  FItzpatrIck  asked  the  hunter, 
"  that  a  shot  from  the  tree  where  McTavIsh  was 
could  have  reached  and  killed  Indian  Tom?" 

"  There's  no  doubt  of  It,  sir." 

"  Now,  Captain  McTavIsh,  do  you  admit  having 
had  a  personal  encounter  with  this  Indian  not  long 
since?  " 

"  I  do."  And  Donald  detailed  the  Incident,  end- 
ing with  this  remark:  "  It  would  seem  to  me  only 
ordinary  common  sense  that  Tom  should  go  gunning 
for  me,  and  not  I  for  him." 

"  Yes,  but  a  great  many  people,  when  they  know 
an  Indian  is  on  their  trail,  prefer  to  end  matters 


IN  NEW  CLUTCHES  199 

themselves,  rather  than  live  in  constant  suspense  and 
fear." 

*'  I  have  yet  to  live  in  suspense  or  fear  of  any 
man,"  returned  Donald  significantly. 

"  Now,  Captain  McTavIsh,"  the  factor  said, 
"  will  you  please  state  what  took  you  to  the  edge  of 
the  camp  last  night  during  a  storm  of  such  fierce- 
ness? " 

"  It  was  a  private  matter,  solely,  and  I  do  not  care 
to  divulge  it,"  was  the  unsatisfactory  reply. 

*'  More  may  depend  upon  this  than  you  think," 
warned  the  factor,  pawing  at  his  beard  with  the  old, 
familiar  gesture.     "  I  advise  you  to  tell." 

"  I  refuse  to  do  so,  but  give  you  my  word  of  honor 
that  I  had  no  thought  of  Tom  in  mind.  In  fact,  I 
had  forgotten  all  about  him.  But  I  did  hear  the 
shot.  It  was  not  very  distant,  and  I  was  not  sure 
what  the  noise  was.  I  waited  for  another,  but  none 
came." 

For  another  half-hour,  the  factor  grilled  his  vic- 
tim for  further  information.  But  in  vain.  Then, 
furious  at  his  failure,  he  ordered  McTavIsh  placed 
under  guard  without  parole,  and  in  the  next  breath 
commanded  a  second  log  cabin  to  be  built  as  a  jail 
wherein  to  confine  the  prisoner. 

"  You  have  defied  me  long  enough,  McTavIsh," 
he  snarled,  his  eyes  gleaming  with  an  ugly  light, 
*'  and,  by  the  eternal,  you  shall  pay  for  this.  I'll 
make  an  example  of  you  that  the  North  country  will 
not  forget  in  years.  Already,  you  deserve  punish- 
ment for  breaking  out  of  Fort  Severn;  this  is  the  last 


200         THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

straw.  We'll  see  whether  the  Company  can  be  set 
at  naught  by  every  underling  in  its  employ." 

"  What  do  you  intend  to  do?  "  Donald  asked. 

"  I  shall  try  you  on  this  charge  of  murder." 

*'  How  can  you  try  me  on  such  a  charge  when  you 
are  here  avowedly  at  war?  Tom,  being  the  half- 
brother  of  Charley  Seguis,  naturally  is  an  enemy. 
Men  at  war  can't  be  tried  for  murder,  if  they  kill 
an  enemy." 

"  Indian  Tom  wasn't  killed  in  battle ;  he  was  far 
beyond  our  sentry  lines.  Your  technicality  has  no 
weight,"  retorted  the  factor,  grimly.  "  I  am  re- 
solved that  this  crime  shall  not  go  unpunished,  just 
as  I  am  resolved  that  Charley  Seguis  shall  pay  the 
penalty  for  the  death  of  Cree  Johnny,  if  I  can  ever 
lay  hands  on  him.  You  shall  have  a  fair  trial,  as 
is  your  due;  but  justice  shall  run  Its  course." 

"  How  soon  will  this  travesty  take  place?  "  asked 
McTavish  bitterly. 

The  factor  restrained  his  temper  with  difficulty. 

"  As  soon  as  possible,"  he  declared  savagely. 
Then,  turning  to  the  others  present,  he  ordered: 
"  Take  him  away.'' 

Already,  outside,  Donald  could  hear  men  at- 
tacking dead  trees  with  their  axes  for  material  to 
build  the  little  cabin  that  was  to  be  his  prison.  His 
heart  sank,  for  he  felt  instinctively  that  the  shanty 
would  be  his  last  earthly  habitation.  At  length,  the 
factor  had  found  what  he  wanted  —  an  opportunity 
of  legalizing  the  murder  for  which  his  heart  lusted. 

Donald's  morbid  fancy  could  see  the  skeleton  of 


IN  NEW  CLUTCHES  201 

the  gibbet  and  the  hollow  square  of  witnesses.  He 
could  feel  the  rope  scratching  his  neck.  He  could 
both  see  and  feel,  most  hideous  of  all,  the  piercing 
triumph  In  that  dread  hour  of  Fitzpatrlck's  gimlet 
eyes. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A  FORCED  MARCH 

/^HARLEY  SEGUIS  entered  the  council  chamber 
^^  of  the  huge  log  house  in  the  free-trader's  camp 
at  the  lower  end  of  Sturgeon  Lake,  and  looked  about 
him  with  satisfaction.  Now,  the  square,  bare-floored 
room  could  scarcely  hold  the  men  when  he  called 
them  into  meeting  because  of  the  bales  of  fur  that 
were  piled  ever)rwhere. 

It  had  indeed  been  a  successful  winter  for  the  free- 
traders, notwithstanding  opposition;  and,  as  is  the 
case  in  so  many  new  enterprises,  there  had  been  an 
enthusiasm  and  devotion  to  the  cause  that  had  given 
speed  to  snowshoes  and  accuracy  to  the  aim  of  rifles. 
The  catch  was  extraordinary. 

Passing  out  into  the  open  again,  he  met  one  of  his 
men. 

'*  The  Frenchies  ought  to  be  here  with  their  sup- 
plies pretty  soon,  chief,"  the  latter  remarked;  "  we're 
running  mighty  low  on  flour  and  tea  and  tobacco.'"' 

"  I  expect  them  any  day,"  was  the  reply.  "  Can 
we  hold  out  a  week  longer?  " 

"  No  more  than  that,  and,  even  so,  we'll  have  to 
go  on  short  rations." 

Although  the  situation  was  as  yet  not  grave,  it 
gave  Seguis  some  concern.     The  negotiations  with 

202 


A  FORCED  MARCH  203 

the  French  company  that  had  bargained  for  the  free- 
traders' furs  were,  this  first  winter,  carried  on  under 
difficulties,  for  the  company  had  not  as  yet  been  able 
to  build  a  post  for  regular  trading. 

Arrangements  had  been  made,  however,  to  send 
a  great  dog-train  of  ten  sledges  north,  loaded  with 
supplies,  that  the  hunters  might  replenish  their  fail- 
ing stores.  Because  of  the  unsatisfactory  trading 
arrangements,  the  men  had  not  ventured  far  afield; 
and,  now,  because  of  the  shortness  of  staple  food, 
they  had  gathered  at  the  settlement  to  restock  before 
circling  out  on  the  hunt  again.  The  opportunities 
for  game  at  this  time  were  the  worst  in  the  winter. 
Moose  had  "  yarded  up  '' —  that  is,  gone  into  win- 
ter seclusion  in  some  snowy  corral  farther  north  — 
and  bears  were  enjoying  their  {\vq  or  six  months* 
nap  beneath  cozy  tree-roots  and  five  or  six  feet  of 
snow.  Caribou,  always  hard  hunting,  unless 
"  mired  '*  in  deep  snow,  were  few  and  far  between. 

The  only  real  source  of  fresh  food  was  the  lake, 
where  a  number  of  men  were  constantly  employed 
fishing  through  the  Ice.  And  even  this  was  unsatis- 
factory, because  a  considerable  amount  was  needed  to 
keep  so  many  men  and  dogs  supplied.  There  was, 
however,  an  air  of  contentment  and  satisfaction  in 
the  camp,  and  the  men  waited  patiently,  though  hun- 
grily, for  the  arrival  of  the  trains  from  the  south. 

When  the  commissary  had  left  him,  Charley  Se- 
guis's  brow  clouded  with  annoyance  as  he  saw  a  bent, 
wizened  female  figure  approaching  him.  The  only 
woman  in  the  camp,  old  Maria,  had  not  fallen  into 


204  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

obscurity  for  a  moment.  She  always  wanted  some- 
thing, and  haggled  and  nagged  until  she  got  it.  Se- 
guis,  the  sterling  white  blood  ascendant  in  him,  could 
not  always  find  the  pride  for  her  in  his  heart  that  a 
mother  might  wish  of  her  son.  Now,  she  fawned 
upon  him  and  whined. 

"  Are  you  a  man  or  a  stick,'*  she  complained, 
"  that  you  let  the  blood  of  your  brother  go  un- 
avenged? It's  nearly  three  weeks  since  some  coward 
shot  him,  and  you  haven't  made  a  move  to  find  the 
guilty  man.'' 

*'  Nor  will  I,  until  the  business  here  is  settled," 
Seguis  retorted,  in  a  tone  of  finality.  "  Do  you  ex- 
pect me  to  leave  this  camp  when  the  traders  are  ex- 
pected, and  go  on  some  wild-goose  chase  out  of  per- 
sonal revenge?  For  my  part,  I  think  Tom  would 
have  been  sorrowed  over  a  little  more  if  he  hadn't 
been  such  a  fool.  Why  he  went  gunning  for  Mc- 
Tavish  out  of  pure  spite,  I  don't  see.  We  need 
every  man  we  can  get  in  this  camp." 

Seguis  was  a  remarkably  fine-looking  half-breed. 
He  had  the  proud  carriage  and  graceful  movements 
of  the  Indian,  combined  with  the  bright  eyes  and 
more  attractively  shaped  head  of  a  Caucasian. 
His  hair  was  smooth  and  black,  but  lacked  the  coarse- 
ness of  his  mother's  race,  while  his  brain  and  method 
of  thinking  were  wholly  that  of  his  father.  With 
this  endowment  there  had  come  to  him,  early  in  life, 
an  aspiration  to  rise  above  his  own  sort,  a  desire  to 
be  a  thorough  white  man.  And  in  this  he  had  always 
been  supported  by  his  mother,  who,  knowing  her 


A  FORCED  MARCH  205 

past,  carried  in  her  heart  bitterness  fully  the  equal 
of  Angus  Fitzpatrick's.  It  was  only  when  her  elder 
son  had  reached  manhood,  and  bore  easily,  as  by 
right,  the  manners  of  the  superior  race  that  the  Idea 
of  carrying  him  upward  ruthlessly  had  come  to 
her. 

Catherine  de'  Medici  placed  three  successive  sons 
on  the  throne  of  France.  Old  Maria  was  less  am- 
bitious, but  none  the  less  unscrupulous,  and  her 
methods  revealed  an  uncanny  natural  knowledge  of 
diplomacy  and  statecraft.  Her  whole  life  was  bound 
up  In  the  achievements  of  Charley  Seguis,  and  she 
rarely,  if  ever,  considered  the  question  of  personal 
perquisites  should  her  schemes  result  successfully. 
She  was  content  to  be  the  background  of  his  opera- 
tions; and  the  background  of  a  picture,  although  it 
be  subordinate  to  the  main  object,  rarely  goes  abso- 
lutely unnoticed. 

The  strangest  part  of  her  plan  lay  in  the  fact  that 
as  yet  Seguis  was  totally  unaware  of  his  parentage. 
In  the  cunning  scheme  she  had  evolved.  It  was  her 
intention  to  remove  Donald  McTavish  completely, 
though  unostentatiously;  then  could  come  the  great 
revelation  and  the  noise  of  conquest.  Reasoning 
thus,  she  had  taken  her  story  to  Angus  Fitzpatrick, 
anxious,  hesitant,  and  fearful.  But  in  him,  to  her 
great  joy,  she  had  found  an  arrogant  and  eager, 
ally.  This  had  been  during  the  summer.  It  was 
now  the  first  of  March,  and  time  was  flying.  The 
work  must  be  completed  before  the  spring  thaws. 
The  loss  of  Tom  was  not  the  grief  to  her  that  she 


2o6  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

made  pretense  It  was.  Her  references  to  it  this 
morning  had  a  deeper  purpose.  She  continued  the 
conversation,  despite  Seguis's  tone  of  annoyance. 

''  Tom  may  have  been  a  fool,'*  she  croaked,  "  but 
you're  hardly  the  person  to  say  so.  Perhaps  you'd 
have  changed  your  song,  if  he'd  put  that  dog,  Mc- 
Tavish,  out  of  the  way  —  curse  his  charmed  life !  " 

Seguis  laughed  harshly. 

"  You  did  your  best,  and  Tom  did  his;  I  suppose 
it  is  up  to  me  next.  But  why  do  you  imagine  I  would 
be  so  glad  if  the  captain  was  disposed  of?  I've  noth- 
ing against  him." 

"No?  What's  the  matter  with  you?  You're  as 
soft  as  a  rotten  tree !  What  were  you  hanging 
around  Fort  Severn  for  all  last  summer,  without  a 
look  for  the  Indian  girls?  Why  were  you  singing 
love-songs  under  the  trees  of  nights?  Why  did  you 
cease  to  eat,  and  carry  around  a  face  as  long  as  a 
sick  fox's,  eh?  Ah,  you  are  angry,  and  you  shift  I 
And,  yet,  you  ask  me  what  you  have  against  this 
McTavish!  With  him  out  of  the  way,  there's  no 
reason  why  you  shouldn't  — " 

"Hush,  hush,  mother!  There  are  men  coming. 
Don't  talk  so  loud !  "  Seguis  moved  uncomfortably. 
"  Leave  me,  now.  There's  some  truth  in  what  you 
say.    I'll  think  it  over." 

Old  Maria,  bent  and  shriveled,  hobbled  off,  croak- 
ing, to  hide  the  expression  of  malignant  triumph  on 
her  leathery  face.  Her  words  had  bitten  deeper 
than  Seguis  cared  to  admit,  even  to  himself.  The 
short  summer  months,  the  hunter's  love-  and  play- 


A  FORCED  MARCH  207 

time,  had  been  a  season  of  misery  for  him,  because 
of  Jean  Fitzpatrlck^s  pure  and  beautiful  face.  Sub- 
consciously, he  knew  that  In  mind  and  spirit  he  was 
her  equal;  the  white  strain  In  him,  which  now  gov- 
erned all  his  thoughts  and  actions,  felt  the  call  of  Its 
own  blood.  Hence,  It  had  been  with  sad,  rather  than 
bitter,  feelings  that  he  witnessed  Donald's  courtship 
of  the  girl.  More  fiercely  than  ever,  he  realized  the 
limitations  of  his  kind.  The  bar  sinister  was  a  ver- 
itable millstone  around  his  neck  which  dragged  him 
down  to  a  level  he  abhorred. 

It  was  with  a  kind  of  gnawing  hopelessness  that 
he  had  gone  away  from  the  fort  In  the  fall,  and  en- 
deavored to  forget  his  misery  In  the  thousand  ac- 
tivities of  the  free-traders'  brotherhood.  For  Mc- 
Tavlsh  personally,  he  had  always  retained  a  strong 
feeling  of  friendship,  as  was  shown  on  the  occasion 
of  sending  the  Hudson  Bay  man  forth  on  the  Death 
Trail.  But,  now,  the  old  hunger  returned  strong 
upon  him  at  his  mother's  words,  and  he  resolved  to 
give  himself  every  opportunity  for  contemplation  of 
the  dangerous  theme. 

Night  came  without  the  appearance  of  the  looked- 
for  French  supply-trains,  and,  as  usual,  the  camp  re- 
tired early.  As  many  of  the  men  as  possible  used 
the  small  rooms  In  the  great  log  house,  which  occu- 
pied two-thirds  of  its  length.  It  was  In  one  of  these 
that  Donald  had  been  confined  during  his  stay  among 
the  free-traders. 

A  high  wind  was  blowing,  and  it  was  intensely 
cold.     Suddenly,  during  the  most  terrible  hours  of 


208  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

the  night,  a  frightened  cry  rang  through  the  camp. 
Men,  with  heads  and  faces  buried  under  mountainous 
blankets  or  in  sleeping-bags,  did  not  hear,  and  the 
shivering  wretch  who  had  tried  to  give  the  alarm 
ran  frantically  from  room  to  room,  rousing  the  sleep- 
ers. Those  who  were  sheltered  by  shed-tents  awoke 
to  see  a  rosy  light  spreading  across  the  snow  where 
they  lay  —  a  light  that  was  not  the  aurora.  Then, 
upon  the  rushing  wind  sounded  an  ominous  roar  and 
a  mighty  crackling.  The  great  log  house  was  afire, 
and  the  wind  exulted  In  the  flames,  tossing  them  back 
and  forth  and  upward  with  fiendish  glee.  Shouting 
hoarsely,  the  trappers  leaped,  wet  and  steaming,  out 
of  their  covers,  and  ran  to  the  conflagration. 

How  the  blaze  had  started  was  no  mystery,  for, 
in  the  little  rooms  the  men  occupied,  each  was  per- 
mitted his  tiny  fire  for  cooking.  Perhaps,  the  un- 
easy foot  of  a  sleeper,  perhaps  a  gust  of  wind  be- 
tween the  chinks,  had  sent  an  ember  underneath  the 
inflammable  logging  of  the  walls. 

Charley  Seguis,  although  heavy  with  slumber,  was 
among  the  first  to  run  out  of  the  building.  In  an 
instant,  he  took  in  the  situation.  With  a  lake  like 
rock,  and  but  one  or  two  buckets,  it  was  utterly  im- 
possible to  check  the  flames  with  water;  one  or  two 
men  were  making  a  desperate  attempt  to  throw  snow 
on  the  fire;  but  the  wind  whirled  this  away  as  fast  as 
It  was  shot  Into  the  air.    The  building  was  doomed. 

"Save  the  furs!  Save  the  furs!"  Seguis  com- 
manded at  the  top  of  his  voice,  and  set  an  example 
by  plunging  into  the  council  chamber,  to  reappear  In 


A  FORCED  MARCH  209 

a  moment  with  two  small  bales  of  pelts.  Instantly, 
the  others  followed  his  example. 

Fortunately,  the  fire  had  started  at  the  opposite 
end,  so  there  was  a  fighting  chance  to  save  the  valu- 
able skins,  although  the  flames  were  leaping  along 
the  beams  with  lightning  rapidity.  Presently,  it  was 
seen  that  the  crowding  of  men  endeavoring  to  pass 
in  and  out  at  the  same  time  would  be  fatal  to  the 
contents  of  the  wareroom,  and  Seguis,  with  a  few 
rapid  commands,  formed  a  chain  from  the  interior 
to  a  point  well  beyond  the  danger  zone.  He  him- 
self took  the  post  of  hazard  in  the  midst  of  the  piled 
pelts,  and  with  quick  thrusts  of  his  arms  kept  a  steady 
stream  of  bales  flowing. 

Such  men  as  could  not  get  on  the  pelt-brigade,  he 
soon  had  rescuing  bedding,  traps,  and  other  valuables 
from  the  little  rooms,  some  of  which  were  already 
seething  infernos. 

Urged  by  the  high  wind,  the  flames  licked  hun- 
grily at  the  dry  logs,  and  presently  such  a  terrific 
heat  radiated  from  the  fire  that  the  snow  fled  away 
in  tiny  rivulets,  and  the  iron  ground  was  laid  bare. 
Fast  as  they  worked,  the  men  could  not  outspeed  the 
devouring  element.  Flying  embers  clattered  upon 
the  tindery  roof,  and  in  a  moment  the  whole  top  of 
the  long  structure  was  ablaze. 

Charley  Seguis,  grabbing  bales  and  passing  them 
with  both  hands,  suddenly  brushed  a  six-inch  ember 
from  the  pack  of  otter  in  front  of  him  with  a 
curse,  and  looked  up.  Here  and  there  spots  of  fire 
dropped  among  the  furs.     He  said  nothing,  but  re- 


2IO  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

doubled  his  efforts.  In  fifteen  minutes,  three-quar- 
ters of  the  work  was  done,  and  the  drops  of  fire  from 
above  had  become  a  steady  rain. 

"  Get  the  chief  out  of  there !  "  yelled  someone. 
"The  walls  will  fall  on  him!" 

The  man  who  was  standing  next  the  entrance 
shouted  to  Seguis,  but  all  he  got  was  a  round  cursing 
and  a  command  to  stay  where  he  was.  The  half- 
breed  was  fighting  now  for  more  than  a  few  bales  of 
furs;  he  was  fighting  for  the  very  existence  of  the 
free-traders.  For,  should  their  skins  be  lost,  their 
value  as  an  organization  would  be  gone;  and  gone, 
too,  all  the  labor  of  months,  with  its  accompanying 
intrinsic  worth. 

Now,  there  were  but  twenty  bales  left;  now,  but 
fifteen.  Seguis's  hands  were  raw  from  burns,  his 
fur  cap  smoldered  In  half-a-dozen  places.  But  the 
man  at  the  door  was  brave,  and  Seguis  kept  on. 
Ten  —  five!  Could  he  hold  out?  Three  —  two! 
One!  .  .  .  Swearing  horribly  with  agony,  drenched 
with  perspiration,  Seguis  burst  out  of  the  narrow 
doorway  just  as  the  walls  collapsed  inward  from 
both  sides. 

Quick  hands  wrapped  blankets  about  him,  and 
beat  out  the  fire  in  his  cap.  Still  holding  the  last 
bale  in  his  hand,  he  stood  grimly,  watching  the  de- 
struction of  the  only  free  warehouse  within  five  hun- 
dred miles.  Higher  and  higher  the  flames  mounted; 
the  circle  of  men  was  driven  slowly  backward  by  the 
fearful  heat;  the  surrounding  snow  was  eaten  away 
for  fifty  yards  on  every  side. 


A  FORCED  MARCH  211 

Some  activity  was  necessary  lest  the  flying  brands 
do  damage  to  the  shed-tents  and  the  priceless  bed- 
ding, but  the  work  required  only  a  few  hands. 

"Well,  thank  heaven,  we  saved  the  furs!"  ex- 
claimed the  chief,  at  last. 

"  You  saved  'em  rather,"  said  a  voice  admiringly. 
Seguls  Interrupted,  roughly. 

"  Tell  the  cook  to  make  a  couple  of  buckets  of 
tea,  and  serve  It  around  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  Pardon!  "  said  the  functionary  referred  to;  "  but 
there's  no  tea,  or  any  other  kind  of  provision  In  the 
camp.  What  little  stock  remained  was  stored  In  the 
far  end  of  the  building  where  the  fire  took  hold  first. 
I  tried  to  get  to  it,  but  it  was  no  use.  There's  no 
food." 

This  was  a  serious  state  of  affairs,  for  without  his 
eternal  hot  tea  the  woodsman  is  almost  as  wretched 
as  though  tobacco  had  ceased  to  grow.  And,  now, 
it  was  almost  a  matter  of  life  and  death,  for  the  men 
were  mostly  without  shelter,  and  worn  out  with  their 
long  struggle.  Charley  Seguls  walked  up  and  down 
briskly  for  a  while,  thinking.  The  fire  tumbled  in 
upon  itself  with  a  great  roar  and  geyser  of  sparks, 
throwing  distant  trees  and  forest  aisles  Into  quick  re- 
lief. The  first  indications  of  dawn,  almost  obliter- 
ated by  the  brilliance  of  the  blaze,  now  made  them- 
selves definitely  evident.  A  few  of  the  men,  with 
rough  fishing-tackle  and  axes,  had  already  started  to- 
ward the  edge  of  the  lake  for  the  morning's  catch. 

Seguis  watched  them  with  somber  eyes,  pausing 
for  a  moment  in  his  walk.     Fish,  fish,  fish;  nothing 


212  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

between  starvation  and  life  for  forty  men  except 
that  staple  of  fish.  And  suppose  the  French  traders 
did  not  get  through!  Suppose  something  had  gone 
wrong  in  that  five  hundred-odd  miles  to  civilization  I 

Where,  then?  Where  in  this  wilderness  could  he 
turn  for  abundant  supplies  easily  secured  —  except 
one  place.  A  grim  smile  set  his  face  into  hard  lines. 
.  .  .  Yes,  he  would  go  there.  His  mother's  words 
of  the  day  before  returned  to  him.  Perhaps  he 
would  see  her!    He  called  a  man  to  him. 

"  Tell  the  boys  to  get  ready  to  march.  I'll  leave 
five  here  to  guard  the  furs.  The  rest  of  us  are  going 
up  to  the  Hudson  Bay  camp,  and  get  food.  If  we 
don't,  we'll  starve  to  death,  or  get  scurvy,  or  some- 
thing.    Tell  everybody  to  be  ready  at  ten  o'clock." 


CHAPTER  XX 

AWAITING  THE  HANGMAN 

CTRETCHED  on  a  rough  bed  of  blanket-covered 
^  branches,  In  a  low,  squat  log  cabin,  a  man  lay 
smoking  his  pipe,  and  conversing  In  snatches  with 
two  other  men  who  sat  by  the  door,  also  smoking 
pipes. 

The  man  on  the  bed  was  not  yet  thirty  years  old, 
but  his  face  was  furrowed  with  lines  of  care  —  not 
only  lines  of  care,  but  of  character.  The  hair  about 
his  temples  was  sprinkled  with  gray,  a  fact  that 
added  to  the  dignity  of  his  countenance.  In  his 
whole  attitude,  as  he  lay,  there  was  a  certain  master- 
ful repose  and  self-confidence,  an  air  of  peace  and 
understanding  that  sat  well  upon  him. 

The  men  at  the  door,  on  the  other  hand,  were 
nervous  and  miserable,  and  shifted  their  positions 
uneasily  now  and  again.  A  small  fire  burned  in  the 
middle  of  the  room. 

"  What  time  Is  It,  boys?  "  asked  the  man  on  the 
bunk. 

"  Three  o'clock,  Mac,"  replied  TImmins,  pulling 
on  his  watch  with  fingers  that  shook,  and  straining 
his  eyes  In  the  dim  light. 

"  Four  or  five  hours  more.  That's  what  I  hate, 
9x3 


214  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

this  waiting.  I'll  be  mighty  glad  when  I  hear  the 
steps  outside." 

"  Don't,  Mac,  for  heaven's  sake !  "  muttered  Bux- 
ton hoarsely,  his  languid  drawl  gone  for  once.  Then, 
he  burst  out:  "  McTavIsh,  I  can't  stand  this  —  this 
thing  that's  going  to  happen.  It's  murder,  that's 
what  it  is  I  Why  don't  you  tell  all  the  circumstances 
of  that  night  Indian  Tom  was  killed?  " 

"  It  wouldn't  get  me  off,  if  I  did.  Can't  you  see 
that  Fitzpatrick  is  going  to  get  me,  even  if  he  has  to 
do  It  with  his  own  hands?  I  did  tell  about  going  to 
Peter  Rainy  in  the  woods,  and  it  only  strengthened 
the  circumstantial  evidence.  If  I  told  of  the  other 
person  I  was  with  when  the  shot  came,  It  would  only 
draw  out  a  flood  of  revelations,  and  not  in  the  slight- 
est change  the  verdict.  Besides,  it  would  bring  at 
least  half-a-dozen  people  to  their  graves  in  shame 
and  sorrow.  No,  Buxton,  even  if  I  could  get  myself 
off,  I  haven't  any  right  to  do  it." 

Donald  lighted  his  pipe  again  and  fell  Into  a  som- 
ber reverie.  For  two  weeks  now,  he  had  been  In  his 
cabin,  awaiting  the  end.  The  men  that  sentenced 
him  to  death  had  ordained  a  fortnight  in  which  he 
might  change  his  mind,  and  save  himself,  if  he  would. 
Now,  this  was  the  finish.  He  sighed  with  relief. 
Then,  a  tender  light  came  Into  his  eyes.  Only  the 
day  before,  Jean  Fitzpatrick,  white  and  still  with 
pain,  had  come  to  him,  and  had  begged  him,  on  her 
knees,  to  save  himself  at  her  expense. 

"  If  you  don't  confess  that  I  was  with  you  that 


AWAITING  THE  HANGMAN        215 

night,  I'll  do  it  myself,"  she  had  cried,  beside  her- 
self. 

And  he  had  answered: 

"  Princess,  if  you  do,  I'll  deny  it." 

But  even  that  had  not  convinced  her,  and  she  had 
risen  with  a  firm  purpose  in  her  mind.  Then,  in  the 
supreme  renunciation  of  his  life,  he  had  told  her 
everything;  that  he  was  a  nobody,  according  to  law; 
that  her  father  was  merely  working  out  to  a 
triumphal  conclusion  the  revenge  he  had  plotted  so 
many  years,  and  that  there  was  but  one  way  of  clean- 
ing the  slate,  which  bore  the  writing  of  so  many 
lives. 

"  When  your  father  has  done  away  with  me  I  think 
he  will  be  satisfied,  for  my  father's  heart  will  be 
broken  and  all  the  ambitions  that  have  carried  him 
to  where  he  is  will  fall  to  ashes.  I  have  a  mother  and 
a  sister  —  ah,  they  would  love  you,  my  mother  and 
sister !  —  and  think  what  these  revelations  would 
mean  to  them.    Disgrace  and  dishonor!  " 

**  Donald,  what  about  me?  "  she  had  cried,  weep- 
ing. "  You  haven't  thought  about  me.  You  speak 
of  your  father  and  your  mother  and  sister,  but  you 
haven't  even  mentioned  me.  Am  I  nothing  to  you? 
Oh,  forgive  me  !  I  don't  mean  that !  But,  Donald, 
if  I  lose  you,  I  shall  die,  too.  Don't  you  see  I  can't 
live  without  you?  You  found  me  a  girl  innocent  and 
ignorant  of  life,  and  of  men.  You  were  a  good  man, 
and  you  gave  me  a  good  love.  And  I  gave  you  my 
love,  the  love  of  a  grown  woman,  suddenly  on  fire 


2i6  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

with  things  I  had  never  suspected  before.  Love  can't 
come  to  me  again.  Oh,  can't  you  think  of  me?  And 
yourself!  Haven't  you  the  desire  to  live  life  to  its 
greatest  fulfilment?     Can  you  give  me  up  this  way?  " 

Utterly  selfish  was  her  grief.  But  it  was  the  in- 
nocent, instinctive  selfishness  of  the  wild  thing 
robbed  of  Its  due.  Hers  was  a  nature  as  strong  In 
its  renunciation  as  in  Its  seeking,  but  she  had  not 
come  to  renunciation  yet.  .  .  .  She  stroked  his  head, 
pushing  back  the  fur  cap  that  he  wore. 

"  Oh,  my  lover,  my  boy,  your  hair  Is  streaked 
with  gray!     Oh,  my  poor  darling!  " 

He  smiled  wanly. 

"  That,"  he  said  faintly,  "  came  after  I  had 
thought  of  you  —  and  given  you  up !  " 

Then,  the  greater  woman  awakened  In  her,  the 
woman  that  has  drawn  man's  head  upon  her  breast 
to  comfort  him  since  the  world  began;  the  woman 
that  has  borne  the  sons  and  daughters  of  the  earth 
amid  pain  and  fear  and  Ingratitude;  the  woman  that 
has  ever  stood  aside,  alike  In  right  and  wrong,  that 
the  man  may  achieve  his  destiny. 

So,  then,  stood  Jean  FItzpatrick  In  sight  of  the 
trimmed  tree-limb  that  was  soon  to  bear  the  body  of 
him  whom  she  knew  to  be  hers.  Her  weeping  was 
stilled,  and  the  eyes  that  looked  Into  the  eyes  of 
Donald  McTavIsh  bore  alike  the  pain  and  the  glory 
of  woman's  eternal  sacrifice.  And  to  them  both 
came  the  sense  of  peace  that  follows  a  bitter  strug- 
gle won.  They  talked  a  while  of  Intimate,  tender 
things,  and  then  she  left  him. 


AWAITING  THE  HANGMAN        217 

"  Look  at  him,  Timmins,'*  whispered  Buxton  in 
an  awed  whisper.  "  Did  you  ever  see  a  face  with 
such  glory  In  It  all  your  life?  He's  seen  some- 
thing that  you  and  I  will  never  see,  here  or  here- 
after! " 

TImmlns  looked.  .  .  .  The  light  gradually  died 
out  before  his  eyes. 

"  What  time  is  it,  boys?  "  asked  Donald. 

"  Four  o'clock,  Mac,"  answered  TImmlns,  glanc- 
ing with  difficulty  at  the  watch  that  shook  In  his 
fingers. 

"  Let  me  have  my  pencil  and  note-book,  will  you? 
I  want  to  write  a  letter  or  two."  The  men  hesitated, 
and  the  condemned  man  smiled.  "  Oh,  you  needn't 
be  afraid  I'll  try  any  funny  business  at  this  late  date. 
I  give  you  my  word,  and  that's  still  good.  Isn't  it?  " 

"  It  sure  Is,  Mac,"  said  Buxton,  and  he  brought 
him  the  articles  required. 

When  the  prisoner  had  begun  to  write  awkwardly 
by  the  flickering  light,  the  men  engaged  in  a  whis- 
pered conversation. 

"  Say,  Mac  — "  TImmlns  began  hesitatingly,  and 
paused.  Then,  abruptly,  he  continued  boldly: 
"  I've  got  a  proposition  to  make  you." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Buxton  and  me  have  agreed  it's  the  only  fair 
thing  to  do.  You  take  my  revolver,  and  bang  us 
both  over  the  head  with  it,  and  make  your  get-away. 
We'll  frame  up  a  good  story  of  a  desperate  strug- 
gle, and  all  that,  to  tell  'em  when  we  come  to.  Then, 
nobody'U  suffer,  and  we  won't  all  have  murder  on  our 


2i8  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

souls.  But  give  us  time  to  fix  the  story  up  before- 
hand," he  concluded,  whimsically.  "  You  see,  we 
mightn't  be  able  to  think  alike  afterward.*' 

Donald  actually  laughed. 

"It's  no  go,  boys,"  he  said  gratefully;  "but  I'll 
always  remember  your  — "  He  halted  blankly,  and 
Buxton  cleared  his  throat  viciously,  and  spat  into  the 
fire.  The  fact  that  "  always  "  consisted  for  him  of 
perhaps  four  hours,  at  most,  occurred  to  the  man 
about  to  die  with  something  of  surprise  for  a  mo- 
ment.   Then,  he  went  on  writing. 

He  had  just  sealed  a  letter,  and  given  it  to  Tim- 
mins,  when  he  thought  he  detected  a  noise  outside 
the  cabin.  Whether  it  was  a  step  or  a  gruff  whisper, 
he  could  not  say.  He  listened  curiously.  Who 
should  be  about  at  this  hour?  Surely,  It  was  too 
early  for  the  — 

"  I  wonder,  do  they  keep  their  grub  in  this 
shack?  "  came  the  whisper  of  a  man,  speaking  to  a 
companion. 

Where  Donald  lay,  with  his  ear  almost  against 
the  logs,  the  voices  were  distinct  through  the  chinks, 
but  did  not  reach  the  two  guards  at  the  door.  He 
remained  silent.  There  was  a  sound  of  breathing, 
and  then  stealthy  steps,  as  the  men  pursued  their  in- 
vestigations along  the  walls.  What  should  he  do? 
Who  were  they?  If  he  spoke,  he  might  precipitate 
some  calamity  of  which  he  had  no  inkling.  Think- 
ing hard,  he  could  reason  out  no  situation  In  the  camp 
that  would  call  for  men  to  be  slinking  about  looking 


AWAITING  THE  HANGMAN        219 

for  food.  Besides,  every  one  knew  that  the  little 
cabin  was  not  a  storehouse. 

Knowing  their  man  and  sure  of  their  own  ability 
to  cope  with  any  situation  that  might  arise,  Timmins 
and  Buxton  had  not  been  over-careful  in  making  the 
door  of  the  cabin  fast.  At  best,  the  bar  was  only  a 
piece  of  wood  that  turned  on  a  peg,  and  its  main  use 
was  to  keep  the  door  tightly  closed  on  account  of  the 
cold  draft  that  entered  every  crack.  McTavish  had 
been  under  guard  since  the  morning  of  his  arrest, 
and  the  watchers  were  grown  careless.  Now,  the 
piece  of  wood  was  not  turned  full  across  the  edge  of 
the  entrance  —  in  fact,  it  just  managed  to  keep  It 
shut.    A  good  stiff  pull  would  — 

There  was  a  jerk  at  the  outside  handle,  a  cracking 
and  scraping  of  wood,  an  Icy  blast  set  the  little  fire 
roaring.  An  instant  later,  a  long  gun,  with  a  muffled 
face  behind  it,  appeared  and  covered  the  three  men. 

"  Here,  you  In  the  corner,  get  up,  and  let's  see 
who  you  are?  "  said  the  man  with  the  gun,  and  Don- 
ald, before  that  uncompromising  barrel,  stood. 

"  Well,  by  the  great  Lucifer,"  came  the  soft  oath, 
"If  It  isn't  McTavish!'' 

"  What  do  you  want?  "  demanded  Donald;  "  and 
who  are  you?"  He  resented  this  intrusion.  The 
time  for  letters  was  growing  less  and  less. 

"What,  don't  you  recognize  me?"  The  man 
thrust  his  head  forward,  and  worked  his  face  out  of 
the  capote  that  covered  the  features.    It  was  Seguis. 

"Well,  this  is  luck,"  the  half-breed  was  saying 


220  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

to  himself.  "  All  I  have  to  do  now  is  to  take  hiru 
out  of  here,  and  the  coast  is  clear  for  my  own  opera- 
tions." 

He  said  a  few  words  in  Ojibway,  and  a  couple  of 
men  appeared  behind  him  in  the  doorway,  as  he 
stepped  inside. 

"  Take  off  your  snowshoes,"  he  ordered  Timmins^ 
and  the  under-storekeeper  obeyed  with  real  joy. 
Had  Seguis  known  it,  the  two  men  in  front  of  him 
were  much  farther  from  resistance  than  was  their 
prisoner. 

Under  command,  McTavish  donned  the  rackets, 
and  followed  his  new  captor  out  of  doors.  He  was 
entirely  prepared  for  traveling,  even  to  gauntlets, 
for  the  temperature  of  the  cabin  had  been  but  a  few 
degrees  higher  than  that  of  outdoors. 

Seguis,  with  a  few  words  to  a  couple  of  followers, 
gave  Donald  Into  their  charge,  bidding  him  accom- 
pany them.  TImmins  and  Buxton,  chuckling  to- 
gether, said  nothing  of  the  event  that  Seguis  had 
interrupted,  and  even  McTavish,  in  his  exalted  nerv- 
ous state,  was  not  fool  enough  to  remark:  "  Don't 
take  me  away !  —  for  Fm  due  to  be  hanged  in  the 
morning." 

Seguis  and  his  free-traders  had  found  the  ap- 
proaches to  the  camp  ridiculously  easy.  In  fact,  for 
the  last  few  days  sentries  had  been  withdrawn,  Fitz- 
patrick  resting  assured  that  the  free-traders  would 
not  make  an  aggressive  move.  He  had  learned  in  a 
parley  that  all  Seguis  and  his  men  asked  was  peace, 
and  a  chance  to  follow  their  own  path.    The  factor 


AWAITING  THE  HANGMAN        221 

was  waiting  for  reinforcements  from  Fort  Severn, 
which  he  had  asked  Bralthwaite  to  secure,  if  possible, 
among  the  friendly  trappers;  and,  until  they  should 
arrive,  and  the  present  matter  of  discipline  be  off  his 
hands,  he  had  no  desire  to  make  an  attack.  Conse- 
quently, Seguis's  party  had  crept  stealthily  closer  and 
closer  to  the  camp,  undetected.  It  was  the  time  when 
sleep  in  the  North  country  is  almost  a  coma,  and  the 
quiet  approach  aroused  no  one.  In  the  light  of  the 
aurora  and  the  stars,  two  log  cabins  stood  forth  con- 
spicuously. Knowing  Fitzpatrick's  love  of  ceremony 
and  distinction,  Seguis  gathered  that  the  larger  and 
better  one  was  his.  If  so,  the  other  probably  con- 
tained provisions. 

During  the  time  that  he  talked  to  McTavish  and 
his  guards,  he  had  not  realized  the  strange  situation 
in  which  he  found  them.  As  he  came  nearer  and 
nearer  to  Jean  Fitzpatrick,  his  mind  had  grown 
more  and  more  intense  against  McTavish.  What 
had  happened  to  the  unfortunate  Hudson  Bay  man, 
he  only  knew  imperfectly.  But  that  the  former 
should  be  in  constant  communication  with  the  girl 
was  a  spur  to  his  jealous  imagination.  If  he  could 
but  get  his  rival  out  of  the  way,  for  a  while  at  least, 
things  would  be  so  much  easier.  The  bird  had  fallen 
unexpectedly  Into  his  hand,  and  for  a  time  he  did 
nothing  but  congratulate  himself.  McTavish  was 
now  on  his  way  to  Sturgeon  Lake  temporarily,  and 
was  safely  off  the  board.  .  .  .  But,  after  a  while, 
the  strangeness  of  the  situation  In  the  cabin  struck 
him,  and  he  turned  to  Timmins. 


222  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

"  What  was  going  on  in  this  place  when  I  came 
in?  "  he  asked. 

"  We  were  guarding  McTavish.'' 

"What  for?" 

"  He  was  to  be  hanged  to-morrow  for  the  mur- 
der of  Indian  Tom." 

Seguis's  jaw  dropped,  and  his  eyes  bulged. 

"  Damnation,  you  idiot  I  "  he  said  at  last,  wrath- 
fully.  "Why  didn't  you  tell  me?  I  wouldn't  have 
Interfered  for  the  world." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

A  NOTE  AND  ITS  ANSWER 

'TpEN  minutes  later,  a  man  approached  Seguis. 

-*■        "  We've  found  the  provisions  under  a  tent 
near  the  other  cabin,"  he  said. 

"Quick,  then!"  the  half-breed  snapped.  "Get 
them  out  as  soon  as  you  can.  If  we  can  get  away 
without  being  seen,  so  much  the  better." 

But  in  this,  Seguis  had  counted  without  Buxton. 
Because  of  the  passive  actions  of  the  two  men  upon 
his  appearance  the  half-breed  considered  them  cow- 
ards, and,  after  disarming  them,  had  kept  a  care- 
less watch  over  their  movements,  though  always 
holding  them  in  sight.  In  relieving  them  of  rifles 
and  revolvers,  he  thought  he  had  silenced  them,  but 
Buxton  was  provided  against  just  such  an  emergency. 
Beneath  his  outer  garments,  he  wore  a  second  belt, 
which  permitted  the  suspension  of  a  revolver  in  such 
a  position  that  it  could  be  neither  seen  nor  felt  in  a 
hasty  examination.  Now,  when  the  opportunity  of- 
fered, he  secured  this  weapon,  and  fired  rapidly  a 
number  of  times  into  the  air. 

Almost  immediately  tent  doors  were  opened,  and 
men,  carrying  weapons,  burst  out,  bewildered,  but 
aware  of  danger  from  the  signal.  By  previous  ar- 
rangement, they  gathered  around  the  factor's  cabin, 

223 


224  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

where  Buxton  had  already  taken  his  stand.  In  a 
moment,  he  had  told  them  what  had  happened,  and 
then  the  factor  himself  appeared.  In  the  three 
weeks  that  had  elapsed,  he  had  recovered  sufficiently 
to  leave  his  bed,  and  his  shoulder  was  almost  healed. 
Now,  he  took  command.  In  the  meantime,  Seguis's 
men,  having  secured  a  goodly  supply  of  provisions, 
were  making  all  speed  into  the  forest.  Fitzpatrick, 
dazed  at  the  audacity  of  the  free-traders,  gave  vent 
to  an  explosion  of  fury. 

"  Fire  I  "  he  commanded  gratingly.  "  Kill  every 
one  of  'em.  Fire !  "  And  the  leveled  rifles  of  almost 
fifty  men  spoke  with  unerring  aim.  Three  of  those 
last  to  leave  the  camp  fell,  but  the  others,  now  In  the 
protection  of  the  forest,  fled  away  on  their  snow- 
shoes  at  top  speed. 

"After  'em!"  snarled  Fitzpatrick.  "Don't  let 
one  of  'em  get  away.     We'll  end  this  matter  here." 

Instantly  there  was  a  rush  for  tents  and  belongings, 
for  none  of  the  men  had  had  the  opportunity  to  slip 
on  snowshoes.  Fifteen  minutes  later,  the  pursuers 
struck  out,  led  by  the  aged  factor,  whose  rage  seemed 
to  lend  him  almost  superhuman  strength.  In  vain, 
Jean  had  besought  him  to  stay  in  camp,  saying  that 
the  others  would  do  just  as  well  without  him.  At 
last,  he  had  promised  reluctantly  to  return  in  an  hour. 
Two  men  who  had  been  wounded  previously  were 
ordered  to  remain,  and  to  put  the  storehouse  In 
order. 

When  Charley  Seguis  heard  the  pistol  of  Buxton 
give  warning,  his  first  Impulse  was  to  turn  upon  the 


A  NOTE  AND  ITS  ANSWER         225 

man,  and  shoot  him  dead.  But  his  second  —  and 
Seguis  usually  listened  to  the  second  —  was  to  get 
away  peaceably  with  all  the  provisions  possible. 
Consequently,  his  order  rang  out  short  and  sharp, 
and  was  obeyed,  for  It  was  the  principle  of  the  free- 
traders to  strike  no  blow  except  In  defense.  In  his 
mind's  eye,  the  Intelligent  half-breed  reviewed  the 
scene  that  must  shortly  ensue.  After  that  first 
volley,  he  could  picture  the  pursuers  In  their  rush  for 
equipment,  the  hasty  start,  and  the  deserted  camp. 
Seguis  had  come  hither  for  two  purposes  —  to  secure 
food,  and  to  see  Jean  Fitzpatrlck.  He  had  accom- 
plished the  first;  now  to  accomplish  the  second. 
Putting  one  of  his  trusted  men  In  charge  of  the  party, 
with  directions  to  head  for  Sturgeon  Lake,  and  ex- 
plaining he  was  going  to  reconnolter  a  little,  Seguis 
struck  sharply  to  the  right,  and  began  a  long,  circular 
detour.  Half  an  hour  brought  him  to  a  spot  behind 
the  Hudson  Bay  camp,  where  a  considerable  hill, 
with  a  few  scattered  trees,  sheltered  It  from  the 
northern  storm  blasts.  Cautiously,  and  without  a 
sound,  Seguis  climbed  this  hill,  dodging  from  tree 
to  tree.  At  last,  he  reached  the  summit,  and,  lying 
down  on  his  stomach,  peered  over.  .  .  .  His  heart 
stood  still.  Not  twenty  yards  away  from  him, 
slightly  down  the  declivity,  stood  Jean  Fitzpatrlck. 
Her  back  was  to  him,  and  her  eyes  were  glued  to  a 
pair  of  field-glasses.  Evidently,  she  was  trying  to 
discern  signs  of  the  pursuit  In  a  clear  space  several 
miles  away. 

Seguis   looked  beyond   her   interestedly.     There 


226  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

was  not  a  sign  of  life  in  the  camp.  The  men  who 
had  stayed  behind  to  right  the  storehouse  were  now 
in  the  woods,  picking  up  any  supplies  that  might  have 
been  dropped.  Fortune  had  again  favored  him. 
Very  cautiously,  he  stood  upright,  then  slowly  ad- 
vanced. So  intent  was  the  girl  upon  the  pursuit  that 
she  did  not  hear  the  delicate  crunching  of  the  snow- 
shoes.  When  ten  feet  away,  he  drew  himself  to  his 
full  height,  and  spoke  her  name,  softly: 

"  Miss  Jean.'' 

She  whirled  upon  him  swiftly,  and  shrank  back 
into  herself,  as  though  he  had  aimed  a  blow  at  her. 
He,  on  his  part,  could  hardly  believe  his  eyes  when 
he  looked  Into  her  face.  This  was  not  the  happy, 
care-free,  girlish  Jean  FItzpatrIck,  who  had  laughed 
her  way  through  the  brief  summer  months.  He 
saw,  now,  the  face  of  a  woman,  who  had  learned 
much  and  suffered  much.  There  were  gravity  in  the 
eyes  and  a  seriousness  across  the  brow  that  served  as 
the  badges  of  this  new  realization;  but  there  was  no 
fear.  After  the  first  shrinking  of  surprise,  she 
looked  him  coldly  up  and  down. 

"What  do  you  want?"  she  said. 

"  To  speak  with  you." 

"  Did  you  come  for  that  purpose  especially?" 

"  Yes."  Seguls  smiled  a  little,  with  satisfaction. 
In  searching  TImmlns,  he  had  found  a  letter  ad- 
dressed to  Jean,  In  McTavish's  handwriting.  He 
might  have  to  use  it,  and  he  might  not. 

"  Keep  your  distance,  sir,"  the  girl  commanded, 
haughtily,  "  and  we  will  talk.     If  you  make  a  step 


K  NOTE  AND  ITS  ANSWER         227 

nearer  to  me  than  you  are  now,  I'll  scream,  and 
those  men  in  the  woods  will  hear  me.  And,  if  they 
hear  me,  and  learn  the  trouble,  It  will  go  hard  with 
you.     Now,  what  do  you  want?  " 

Seguis  had  expected  to  find  a  fluttering,  fearful 
youngling,  somewhat  impressed  with  his  graces  and 
courage.  This  businesslike  disposal  of  his  case 
caused  his  active  mind  to  change  Its  tack,  as  soon  as 
it  sensed  the  veer  of  the  wind. 

"  I  am  here,"  he  said,  "  to  present  my  compli- 
ments to  you,  along  with  those  of  a  certain  other 
man." 

"Whom  do  you  mean?"  Jean's  voice  was  now 
a  little  tremulous,  despite  her  discipline  of  it. 

"  Captain  McTavish." 

"  Oh !  "  she  said,  and  she  was  silent  for  a  moment, 
collecting  herself.  "  But  why  do  you,  of  all  people, 
come  with  this  message?  "  she  added. 

"  No  reason  at  all,  except  that  I  saved  his  life 
this  morning,  and  thought  you  might  want  to  learn 
the  facts,  and  perhaps  an  inkling  of  his  where- 
abouts." 

"  Was  that  really  your  reason?  "  she  asked,  more 
kindly. 

"  It  was  one  of  them,"  he  answered,  signifi- 
cantly. 

It  was  now  Jean's  turn  to  look  at  her  companion 
with  some  interest.  He  spoke  with  a  certain  dignity 
and  reserve  that  she  had  never  noticed  in  him  be- 
fore. His  eyes  were  firm  and  steady  when  they  met 
hers;  his  bearing  was  courteous.     With  a  sort  of 


228  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

horrible  pleasure,  she  recognized  that  this  was  Don- 
ald's half-brother,  and  looked  for  a  family  resem- 
blance. She  found  a  very  strong  one,  in  the  eyes 
and  general  stature.  Mercifully  for  her  feelings, 
the  shape  of  the  head  was  hidden  in  the  swathed 
capote  and  fur  cap.  She  wondered  vaguely  if  he 
knew  of  the  relationship. 

"Where  is  —  Captain  McTavish?  "  she  asked, 
finally. 

"  On  his  way  to  Sturgeon  Lake.'* 

"Did  he  leave  any  message  for  me?'* 

"A  letter  that  I  have  in  my  pocket." 

"  May  I  see  it?  "  she  asked  eagerly,  involuntarily 
stretching  forth  her  hand. 

"  How  can  I  hand  it  to  you,  if  I  have  to  keep 
this  distance?"  Seguis  asked,  quizzically,  and  met 
her  stare  with  humorous  eyes. 

"  I'll  come  and  get  it,"  she  announced,  "  when 
you  have  it  in  your  hand,  ready  for  me  to  take." 

"  You  haven't  thanked  me  yet  for  saving  his  life," 
the  half-breed  reminded  her.  "  If  it  hadn't  been 
for  me,  he  would  now  be  — " 

"  Don't !  "  she  cried  sharply,  going  pale  of  a  sud- 
den. "Don't  ever  make  any  reference  to  that  I" 
She  paused,  then  added :  "  I  can't  thank  you  enough 
though,  Seguis,  for  the  fact  that  you  saved  his  life. 
Why  did  you  do  it?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you  later,"  was  the  non-committal  re- 
ply. "  In  the  meantime,  here  is  your  letter."  He 
reached  inside  his  shirt,  and  drew  forth  a  dirty  en- 
velope, on  which  the  girl's  name  was  inscribed  in 


A  NOTE  AND  ITS  ANSWER         229 

pencil.  He  held  It  toward  her  without  a  word,  and 
the  girl  clutched  at  it  eagerly. 

"  Just  a  moment,"  he  said,  withholding  It.  "  You 
must  read  it  here  and  now.  I  want  to  take  it  away 
with  me.  I  must  ask  your  promise  in  this  mat- 
ter." 

"Why?" 

"  You  will  learn  that  later,  too.  Will  you  prom- 
ise?" 

For  a  minute,  the  girl  struggled,  and  then  love 
won.  Better  to  read  the  bitter  parting  message  and 
lose  it  than  not  see  it  at  all. 

"  Yes,  I  promise,"  she  said,  quietly;  and  he  im- 
mediately put  the  envelope  in  her  hands. 

Her  trembling  fingers  picked  at  the  flap  as  she 
turned  away. 

"You  will  pardon  me?"  she  announced  rather 
than  asked,  turning  her  back  upon  him.  No  living 
being  must  see  her  expression  as  these  last  words 
met  her  eye. 

"  Certainly." 

With  seeming  nonchalance,  Seguis  filled  his  pipe 
from  a  skin  tobacco-pouch,  and  began  to  smoke. 
The  men  gathering  up  scattered  stores  at  the  edge 
of  the  woods  below  moved  slowly  and  painfully  be- 
cause of  their  wounds,  he  noticed.  A  snow-bunting 
chirped  from  a  drift  near  by,  and  faintly  to  his  ears 
from  the  deeper  woods  came  the  chattering  scold  of 
a  whiskey-jack,  or  jay.  He  noticed  these  things  dur- 
ing the  first  few  whiffs.  Then,  he  looked  once  again 
at  Jean.     Her  back  was  still  turned,  but  presendy 


230         THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

she  faced  him  slowly,  her  cheeks  flushed,  and  her 
blue  eyes  starry  bright,  though  wet.  He  appeared 
unconscious  of  her  emotion,  a  thing  for  which  she 
mentally  thanked  him.  In  fact,  she  found  him  less 
offensive  every  moment.  He  was  different  from  any 
half-breed  she  had  ever  known,  but  he  was  only  less 
offensive  than  others.  He  could  never  be  anything 
better. 

"  Now,  tell  me  why  you  want  this  letter  back?  '* 
she  asked,  clinging  to  it  desperately,  as  though  it 
were  her  lover's  hand. 

"  I  want  to  take  it  to  Captain  McTavish,  but  I 
want  you  to  write  something  on  it  first.  You  will 
pardon  me  if  I  ask  if  that  was  not  a  letter  of  fare- 
well?'* 

"It  was.'' 

"  Have  you  a  pencil  with  you?  " 

"  Not  here,  but  there  is  one  in  the  cabin,  among 
my  father's  journals.  Shall  I  get  it?  "  Then  she 
bit  her  lip  with  vexation.  Instead  of  dominating 
this  interview,  as  she  had  intended,  she  was  submit- 
ting herself  to  the  plans  of  the  half-breed. 

"  I  must  ask  for  the  letter  while  you  are  gone." 

After  a  moment's  thought  Jean  handed  it  to  him, 
with  a  promise  to  return  without  warning  the  men 
at  the  edge  of  the  woods.  A  certain  curiosity  to 
see  this  mysterious  happening  to  its  conclusion  stirred 
within  her.  Now  that  Donald  had  escaped  the 
shadow  of  death  that  had  been  hovering  over  him, 
her  spirits  rose  buoyantly,  and  she  was  anxious  to 
further  anything  that  concerned  him.     She  returned 


A  NOTE  AND  ITS  ANSWER         231 

presently  with  the  pencil,  and  asked  Seguis  what  he 
wished  her  to  do. 

"  Write  him  a  note  of  farewell,'*  came  the  stolid 
command.  "  It  will  be  the  last  message  he  will  ever 
receive  from  you." 

Instantly  her  color  fled;  fear  filled  her  eyes. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  You're  not  going  to  kill 
him?"  she  burst  out. 

"  No.  He  is  going  to  leave  the  country  for- 
ever." 

"  Did  he  tell  you  so?"  she  asked. 

**  No.  But  I  want  you  to  tell  him  so,  in  your  own 
handwriting.  It  is  the  only  thing  that  will  save  him. 
He'll  obey  you.  I'll  see  that  he  gets  a  safe-conduct 
to  the  edge  of  the  district.  If  you  don't  do  this,  I 
can't  answer  for  what'll  happen  to  him." 

"  Then  you  will  kill  him !  "  she  flashed.  "  I  knew 
It.  Look  here,  Seguis !  What's  your  object  In  this? 
You  have  a  motive,  and  I  demand  to  know  what  It 
is." 

For  an  Instant,  the  passion  of  the  man  leaped 
to  his  lips,  and  trembled  there  In  hot  words.  But 
he  crushed  it  down  resolutely.  He  was  too  wise 
to  ruin  his  plans  now.  Later,  In  a  year,  in  two 
years,  five  years  perhaps,  when  the  memory  of  Mc- 
Tavlsh  had  dimmed,  he  would  speak.  But,  now,  he 
must  not  betray  himself. 

*'  I  sha'n't  kill  him,"  he  returned,  calmly. 
*'  Nothing  is  further  from  my  mind.  But  I  won't 
be  responsible  for  what  happens  to  him.  There's 
only  one  way  of  saving  his  life  —  to  send  him  out 


232  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

of  the  country.  If  he  stays,  he'll  eventually  be  cap- 
tured, and  what  nearly  happened  to-day  will  happen 
then.     You  wish  him  to  live,  don't  you?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  muttered,  between  dry  lips. 
"  Whatever  happens  to  me,  he  must  live." 

"  Then,  write  as  I  suggest.  Make  it  a  command, 
not  an  entreaty.  He'll  obey  you,  and  his  life  will 
be  saved." 

For  a  few  moments,  Jean  paused,  irresolute,  and 
then,  with  difficulty,  started  the  message  on  the  back 
of  the  pages  McTavish  had  sent  to  her.  There 
was  no  struggle  now  against  the  inevitable;  that  had 
been  endured  before.  This  was  merely  writing  a 
different  final  chapter  to  their  romance,  and  she  felt 
glad  of  the  opportunity  to  give  him  life,  although 
life  without  her  and  without  honor  were  an  empty 
thing  to  him.  Strong  In  the  feeling  that  upon  he^* 
words  his  very  existence  depended,  she  made  them 
eager  and  hopeful,  but  imperative,  appealing  to  those 
instincts  In  him  that  could  not  resist  her  desire.  For 
perhaps  ten  minutes,  she  wrote,  and  then  handed  the 
paper  to  Seguis. 

"  I  must  read  it,"  he  said,  and,  at  her  nod  of  ac- 
quiescence, puzzled  out  the  words  that  emotion  and 
her  awkward  position  had  made  unsteady  and  mis- 
shapen. Then,  he  nodded  his  head  with  satisfaction, 
and  tucked  the  letter  away. 

"  Seguis,"  said  the  girl,  when  he  prepared  to  go, 
"what  Is  your  motive  in  doing  this?  You  haven't 
answered  my  question." 

"  My  motive  and  my  desire  in  this  matter,"  he 


A  NOTE  AND  ITS  ANSWER         233 

replied  feelingly,  "  Is  to  secure  your  own  happiness; 
nothing  else."  With  that,  he  turned  away,  and 
coasted  swiftly  down  the  hill  to  the  edge  of  the 
forest  whence  he  had  come. 

"  My  own  happiness !  "  repeated  the  girl  to  her- 
self, as  she  saw  him  disappear.  "  How  strange  a 
thing  for  him  to  say!  And,  yet,  if  only  Donald  Is 
alive  and  safe  I  shall  be  happy  —  In  knowing  that 
he  can  still  think  of  me." 

Five  minutes  later,  a  wind-driven  snow-storm  that 
had  threatened  all  the  morning  broke  with  terrible 
fury,  and,  scarcely  able  to  stand  against  the  blast, 
she  made  her  way  down  to  the  deserted  cabin,  just 
as  the  returning  factor  appeared  at  the  edge  of  the 
woods. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

SECRETED  EVIDENCE 

TT  was  an  hour  before  sunset,  but  so  uniform  had 
-■•  been  the  darkness  all  day  that  neither  Donald 
nor  his  two  companions  realized  that  night  was 
close  upon  them.  Hour  after  hour  they  had 
struggled  onward  through  the  blinding,  bewild- 
ering storm,  shelterless  and  without  food,  strain- 
ing forward  to  the  only  place  where  these 
things  might  be  obtained  —  Sturgeon  Lake.  Now, 
when  the  blanketing  night  was  almost  fallen,  they 
sighted  the  charred  ruins  that  had  once  been  the 
warehouse  of  the  free-traders,  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 
A  shout  from  one  of  Donald^s  companions  brought 
the  five  men  who  had  been  left  out  of  their  tents.  A 
shriveled  female  form  joined  them,  and  with  a  clutch 
at  his  heart  the  prisoner  recognized  old  Maria. 

Fortune,  whose  plaything  he  had  been  all  this  day, 
was  indeed  kind  to  him  at  last,  he  thought.  He  re- 
membered certain  trite  observations  concerning  op- 
portunity knocking  at  a  man's  door,  and  the  obvious 
duty  of  a  man  to  seize  such  opportunity,  and  bend  it 
to  his  own  use.  If  this  were  opportunity,  he  said  to 
himself,  he  would  make  the  most  of  it. 

During  that  all-day  struggle  with  the  storm,  Don- 
ald McTavish  had  come  into  his  own  again.     The 

234 


SECRETED  EVIDENCE  235 

passive  acceptance  of  fate  that  had  buoyed  him  even 
to  the  shadow  of  the  gallows,  had  gone  from  him 
now.  He  was  all  energy  and  aggressiveness.  He 
resolved  to  bring  matters  to  a  head  within  the  next 
few  days,  or  know  the  reason  why.  What  motive 
had  moved  Charley  Seguis  to  send  him  to  Sturgeon 
Lake,  he  did  not  know,  nor  did  he  care.  He  only 
remembered  that  he  was  at  liberty  once  again,  in  a 
certain  sense  of  the  word,  and  that  he  had  a  fighting 
chance.  The  sight  of  old  Maria  recalled  to  his  mind 
the  words  of  Angus  Fitzpatrick  in  regard  to  the  mar- 
riage certificate  that  existed  as  proof  of  his  father's" 
youthful  indiscretion.  On  the  instant,  he  vowed  that 
the  hag  should  give  up  the  truth  of  the  matter  be- 
fore she  was  many  hours  older. 

As  the  little  party  entered  the  camp,  the  men  who 
had  remained  there  plied  them  with  questions  as  to 
the  success  of  the  foraging  party.  When  the  meager 
story  had  been  told,  they  shook  their  heads  dolefully 
at  the  lack  of  information,  and  set  about  the  work 
of  preparing  the  evening  meal  of  fish. 

McTavish,  as  he  joined  the  circle  with  a  ravenous 
appetite,  could  scarcely  credit  the  desolation  he  saw 
on  all  sides  of  him.  Now  that  the  main  loghouse 
was  down,  the  settlement  presented  a  dreary  and 
hopeless  aspect.  The  one  redeeming  feature  was  the 
huge  pile  of  rescued  fur-bales.  The  quantity  and 
quality  of  these  impressed  him  strongly.  One  of  the 
men,  observing  his  interest  in  them,  remarked: 

"  If  you  fellows  would  get  down  to  business,  in- 
stead of  wasting  all  winter  fussing  about  us,  you 


236         THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

might  have  something  like  that  brought  into  the  fort 
when  spring  comes,  yourselves." 

"  Well,  you  see,"  returned  Donald  good-humor- 
edly,  "  our  idea  is  to  have  those  brought  in  when 
spring  comes.     That's  all  we're  fighting  for." 

"  Deuce  of  a  chance  youVe  got  of  getting  those 
furs !  "  retorted  the  other,  contemptuously.  "  We're 
sick  of  the  H.  B.'s  starvation  trading,  and  we've  quit 
for  good  and  all." 

"  The  Hudson  Bay  may  give  starvation  trading, 
but  I'd  like  to  know  where  else  you'll  get  as  much." 

Donald  was  leading  the  man  on,  for  here  was  very 
valuable  information,  and  this  babbler  evidently  did 
not  know  the  worth  of  a  tight  mouth. 

"  As  much !  "  the  trapper  snorted.  "  Why,  these 
Frenchies  '11  give  us  half  again  as  much  for  a 
*  beaver '  as  you  chaps  ever  thought  of*  giving.  And 
there's  no  use  you  fellows  trying  to  keep  them  out," 
either.  This  Is  free  territory,  you  know,  even  if  old 
FItz'  doesn't  think  so.  I've  told  Seguls  often 
enough  that,  If  he'd  wipe  old  FItz'  off  the  map,  he'd 
do  the  brotherhood  more  good  than  any  other  hun- 
dred men." 

"  I  know,  my  good  friend.  But  when  do  you 
suppose  these  Frenchies  will  ever  connect  with  you? 
Maybe  never  and — " 

The  other  burst  into  derisive  laughter. 

"  Why,  you  poor  fool  I  "  he  cried.  "  If  It  hadn't 
been  for  this  blizzard  to-day,  we'd  have  been  bar- 
gaining with  'em  here  to-night.  Ten  big  trains  of 
supplies  are  within  thirty  miles  of  us  —  and  you  ask 


SECRETED  EVIDENCE  237 

me  if  they'll  ever  connect  I  That's  good!"  And 
he  roared  with  laughter. 

McTavIsh  bridled,  but  kept  his  temper,  for  it  was 
evident  who  was  the  fool.  He  continued  pressing 
the  subject  for  some  little  time  further,  but  elicited 
no  more  really  valuable  information.  Judging  his 
man,  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  fellow  knew 
nothing  more. 

Being  ignorant  of  the  events  that  had  occurred  in 
the  Hudson  Bay  camp  after  his  departure,  Donald 
was  unaware  of  the  desperate  pursuit  that  was  going 
on  through  the  howling  storm,  but  it  was  no  sur- 
prise that  none  of  Seguis's  party  returned  to  the 
camp. 

"  Can't  travel  in  this  weather,"  said  one  man, 
dolefully.  *'  If  this  keeps  up  long,  we  won't  see  'em 
till  it's  over.  Honest,  after  this  winter,  I'll  be  sur- 
prised if  I  don't  sprout  fins,  I've  eaten  so  much  fish." 

The  camp  was  about  to  turn  in  early  when  a  faint 
cry  sounded  outside  the  circle  of  tents.  Immedi- 
ately, every  one  turned  out,  hoping  it  was  the  for- 
agers back.  Rushing  in  the  direction  of  the  sound, 
the  men  returned,  accompanying  a  bedraggled  old 
man  with  a  gray  beard,  after  whom  limped  a  train 
of  spiritless,  wolfish  dogs  attached  to  a  battered 
sledge. 

"  Thought  I  was  done  for  in  that  storm,  boys," 
said  the  aged  voyageiir  wagging  his  head,  **  but  I  re- 
membered this  cove  around  the  headland,  and  made 
for  it.     Got  anything  to  eat?  " 

According  to  the  unwritten  law  of  Northern  hos- 


238  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

pitallty,  Bill  Thompson,  for  so  he  gave  his  name, 
was  taken  In,  and  given  what  the  camp  afforded. 
He  seemed  to  be  a  harmless  old  vagrant,  whose  point 
of  departure  and  intended  point  of  arrival  on  this 
journey  were  difficult  to  ascertain.  He  talked  un- 
ceasingly of  nothing  in  particular,  and  delivered  end- 
less narratives  of  adventures  that  had  befallen  him 
in  his  lurid  and  distant  youth. 

All  that  night,  the  storm  continued  unabated,  and 
the  next  morning  when  the  camp  aroused  itself,  Bill 
Thompson  gave  out  the  dictum  that  it  would  con- 
tinue for  two  days  more  at  least.  McTavIsh  and 
his  companions  congratulated  themselves  that  they 
had  made  the  camp  the  night  before,  for  in  such 
weather  traveling  was  almost  an  impossibility. 

At  the  meager  breakfast  Donald  realized  for  the 
first  time  that  Maria  had  not  appeared  since  the 
night  before,  when  he  had  seen  her  upon  their  arrival. 
When  he  had  pulled  up  his  belt  a  notch,  and  lighted 
his  pipe,  the  trapper's  substitute  for  a  full  meal,  he 
wandered  back  to  the  tent  where  he  had  slept.  He 
was  allowed  perfect  liberty  among  these  men,  first, 
because  the  weather  made  it  impossible  for  him  to  at- 
tempt escape,  and,  second,  because  they  had  received 
no  orders  to  keep  him  under  strict  guard.  Despite 
his  wretched  situation,  this  morning  the  spirit  of  hap- 
piness and  determination  that  had  seized  him  the 
night  before  was  strong  upon  him,  and  he  settled 
himself  to  formulating  his  plans.  Suddenly,  right 
beside  him  at  the  tent  door,  he  discovered  the  bent 
form  of  old  Maria.     How  she  had  got  there  he  did 


SECRETED  EVIDENCE  239 

not  know,  for  she  seemed  to  Have  risen  directly  out 
of  the  earth.  Her  presence  both  startled  him,  and 
filled  him  with  a  quick  hatred. 

This  was  the  creature  who  held  In  her  filthy,  with- 
ered hand  the  happiness  of  so  many  persons;  this  was 
the  creature  that  his  father  had  lov —  No!  Not 
that,  for  he  could  only  have  loved  the  beautiful  girl 
he  had  married  In  Montreal. 

Donald  looked  at  the  old  woman  with  a  kind  of 
pitying  loathing.  What  a  terrible  thing  It  was  that 
such  a  worthless  bit  of  humanity  should  hold  so  much 
power  I  She  was  within  reach  of  his  hands.  A 
quick  clutch,  a  stifled  squawk,  a  brief  struggle,  and 
she  would  be  dead.  And  how  much  that  was  to  come 
might  be  averted  I  He  laughed  a  little  at  such  a 
method  of  cutting  the  Gordlan  knot. 

"  Laugh  while  you  can,  young  McTavish,"  Maria 
croaked,  suddenly.     *'  It  won't  be  for  long." 

"  Why  not,  old  raven?  ''  he  asked,  regarding  her 
Interestedly. 

The  certificate!  That  was  It.  She  had  the  cer- 
tificate, and  he  must  get  It. 

"  The  right  man  Is  coming,"  she  replied.  "  The 
pride  of  his  father's  heart !  Ha,  ha  I  Yes,  the 
pride  of  his  father's  heart!  He'll  be  rich,  and  have 
the  honors  heaped  high.  You'd  better  go,  young 
McTavIsh  —  go  while  there's  yet  time." 

"  Why  should  I  go?  What  are  you  talking  about, 
anyway,  old  woman?  " 

"  You  lie !  "  she  yelled  at  him  suddenly,  being 
close.     "  I    see    It  in   your   eyes.     You   know   all. 


240  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

You  know  why  you  should  go.     And  I  warn  you  to 

go." 

"Warn  me?     What  about?" 

"  If  there  should  be  blood,  it  would  do  no  hurt," 
she  muttered,  vaguely.  "  Then,  he  would  come  into 
his  own,  the  rightful  heir,  my  son." 

Donald  glanced  at  the  beldam  with  a  certain  un- 
easiness now.  He  felt  a  veiled  threat,  although,  he 
told  himself,  she  was  mad.  And,  yet  if  she  felt  that 
Seguis  must  be  recognized,  what  would  keep  her 
from  doing  incalculable  harm? 
,  *'  You  talk  a  lot,  but  you  say  little,"  he  retorted, 
with  a  sneer.  "  You  make  plenty  of  moves,  but 
you  accomplish  nothing.  That's  a  squaw  every 
time." 

The  little  eyes  blazed  upon  him  red,  and  her  with- 
ered face  shook  with  fury. 

"  Accomplish  nothing,  eh,  young  McTavish?  We 
shall  see.  Ha !  You'll  wish  youM  never  been  born 
—  you  and  your  father  and  mother,  and  all  1  " 

"More  talk!"  he  gibed.  "I  want  proofs.  If 
you  can  show  me  proofs  of  what  you  claim,  I'll  do 
all  I  can  to  help  your  son  to  his  rightful  place." 

"  My  son !  "  she  taunted,  in  turn.  "  Your 
brother?  Your  brother,  young  McTavish!  Call 
him  brother,  next  time  you  see  him."  Her  shriek- 
ing mirth  mingled  fittingly  with  the  anguish  of  the' 
wind  among  the  trees.  But  suddenly,  she  stopped 
short,  and  looked  at  him  with  questioning  eyes. 

"  You'll  help  him,  you  say,  if  I  can  give  the  proof 
that  I  was  McTavish's  wife?  " 


SECRETED  EVIDENCE  241 

"  Yes." 

Donald  lied  heartily:  the  occasion  demanded  It. 
Long  since,  he  had  decided  for  himself  that  truth 
was  not  a  garment  to  be  worn  on  all  occasions.  To 
those  he  loved,  he  would  tell  the  truth  If  It  killed  him, 
but  others  must  depend  upon  the  circumstances  of 
the  case.  Now,  he  knew  that.  If  he  could  get  docu- 
mentary proof  within  arm's  reach,  he  would  destroy 
It,  though  It  earned  him  a  knife  between  the  ribs. 
He  watched  her  like  a  hawk,  although  apparently 
totally  Indifferent  to  the  conversation. 

"  You  promise  you'll  help  him  —  my  son?  " 

"  Yes." 

Donald's  vision  suddenly  became  riveted  upon  the 
clawlike  right  hand  of  the  hag.  An  Involuntary 
muscle,  following  the  half-ordalned  bidding  of  the 
brain,  had  moved  perhaps  three  Inches  toward  her 
breast.     There,  It  stopped,  and  slipped  down  again. 

"  Look  in  my  eyes,"  the  witch  commanded,  bend- 
ing down  and  putting  her  face  close. 

He  removed  his  pipe,  and  turned  to  meet  her  gaze. 
Then,  he  realized  that  never  In  his  life  had  he  looked 
into  human  eyes  that  In  cruelty,  keenness,  and  suspi- 
cion equaled  these.  That  glare  went  through  the 
retina,  into  the  brain,  and  down,  down  to  the  hidden 
and  undlscoverable  recess  of  the  soul,  plumbing, 
searching,  proving.  He  began  to  feel  as  though  he^ 
were  looking  at  a  dazzling  light.  .  .  .  Suddenly,  the 
light  was  turned  off,  and  he  heard  a  snarl. 

"Liar I  I  can  see  the  treachery  in  your  heart! 
Fool,  to  try  to  deceive  me  I     I  might  have  put  trust 


242         THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

in  your  words  once ;  but  now  I  know ! ''  In  her  fury, 
she  seemed  saner  than  he  had  ever  known  her  hith- 
erto, and  it  was  then,  for  the  first  time,  that  he  got 
an  idea  of  Maria's  abnormal  powers  of  analysis. 
Any  person  who  could  rivet  one  with  a  gaze  like  that, 
he  thought,  was  worth  watching.  For  fully  ten  min- 
utes, she  raved,  scattering  words  with  prodigal  reck- 
lessness. McTavish  did  not  listen  to  the  abuse.  He 
was  thinking  of  other  things.  Presently,  she  flung 
herself  out  of  the  tent,  with  a  final  shriek,  and  the 
man  acted  at  once. 

He  fastened  on  his  snowshoes  and  crawled  awk- 
wardly out  on  all-fours  after  her.  In  the  driving, 
blinding  snow,  he  could  just  see  her  small  figure, 
dimly.  He  followed  it.  The  involuntary  motion 
of  Maria's  hand  to  her  bosom  was  the  one  thing  that 
he  had  needed.  He  had  been  afraid  that  some  split 
tree,  or  hollow  beneath  a  rock,  might  contain  the 
thing  he  wanted;  now,  he  was  certain  that  she  car- 
ried it  upon  her  person. 

On  he  went,  away  from  the  camp,  of  which  the 
circle  of  tents  was  almost  buried.  Donald,  veering 
from  the  path,  since  it  might  lead  to  an  embarrassing 
encounter,  kept  his  quarry  always  in  sight,  and  fol- 
lowed. Was  the  woman  crazy,  he  wondered,  that 
she  should  wander  aimlessly  out  into  a  death-dealing 
storm?  But,  at  last,  when  he  was  on  the  point  of 
turning  back  for  fear  of  losing  his  location  entirely, 
Maria  came  to  the  foot  of  an  unusually  large  tree, 
and  halted.  The  pursuer  dropped  behind  a  little 
drift  he  had  just  started  to  mount,  and  waited.     If 


SECRETED  EVIDENCE  243 

this  were  her  destination,  he  knew  she  would  peer 
about.  A  moment  later,  his  suspicions  were  verified. 
But,  in  the  quick  glance  of  her  keen  eyes,  she  passed 
over  the  practically  Invisible  snow-covered  form  that 
lay  so  near  her.  When  the  man  raised  his  head 
again,  she  had  turned  her  attention  to  the  tree,  and 
had  pulled  open  a  little,  low  door  that  allowed  her  to 
crawl  Into  the  very  heart  of  the  trunk.  A  moment 
later,  the  door  swung  to,  and  Maria  apparently  was 
no  more. 

McTavish  did  not  wonder  now  why  he  had  seen 
her  so  seldom  In  the  camp.  No  doubt,  she  had  her 
own  supply  of  food  safe  inside,  and  did  not  come 
out  until  hunger  or  her  Inclination  prompted.  He 
looked  at  the  tree  to  mark  it  in  his  mind,  and  ob- 
served that  It  was  tall  and  bare,  with  practically  no 
needles  or  foliage  of  any  sort.  Huge  bumps  and 
broken  limbs  made  It  one  in  a  thousand.  On  the 
leeward  side  of  the  tree,  he  thought  he  noticed  a 
glow  of  light.  He  brushed  the  snow  from  his  eyes, 
and  looked  again.  This  time,  he  was  sure.  He 
guessed  that  this  was  an  air-hole  bored  through  the 
wall  of  the  trunk,  and  that  Maria  was  building  a 
fire  Inside.  For  a  moment,  he  envied  her  coziness. 
Then,  he  crawled  stealthily  forward,  until  within  ten 
feet  of  the  big  hollow  pine.  The  air-holes,  he  no- 
ticed now,  were  not  made  on  the  north  and  west  sides 
of  the  tree.  Evidently,  she  counted  on  the  suction 
of  the  wind  to  draw  out  the  smoke  and  foul  air. 

The  noise  of  the  storm  easily  drowned  any  sounds 
the  observer  might  make,  and  he  moved  with  con- 


244  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

siderable  freedom,  now  that  the  woman  could  not 
see  him.  Plainly,  the  air-holes  had  been  made  by 
other  hands  than  hers,  for  they  were  higher  than 
her  head;  In  fact  Donald  himself  would  have  to 
stretch  to  look  down.  He  selected  a  hole  about 
three  Inches  In  diameter,  and  peered  in.  The  smoke 
filled  his  eye,  but  he  saw  enough  to  know  that  the 
old  squaw  was  seated  on  the  floor  of  her  habitation, 
nursing  her  little  fire.  He  could  not  quite  see  all 
her  actions,  so  he  moved  to  a  larger  hole.  Presently, 
the  fire  burned  brightly,  and  Maria  began  to  rock 
back  and  forth,  and  sing  to  herself.  Suddenly,  she 
burst  out  Into  a  weird  laugh,  and  cried: 

"  Ha !  The  fool  I  The  fool !  If  he  only  knew 
I  almost  showed  him !  "  Chuckling  and  muttering 
Incoherently,  she  put  a  stealthy  hand  Into  her  bosom, 
and  drew  forth  a  little  bag  of  muskrat  skin.  Don- 
ald, cursing  softly  the  smoke  that  filled  his  eyes,  did 
his  best  to  stand  on  tiptoe. 

The  bag  was  suspended  around  Maria's  neck  by  a 
leathern  thong,  and  was  operated  by  pull-strings. 
Still  rocking  back  and  forth,  the  crone  loosened  the 
strings,  and  opened  the  bag.  Then,  she  drew  forth 
a  paper,  old  and  dirty  and  yellow.  It  was  so  worn 
In  the  creases  that  It  almost  fell  apart,  but  over  It  ran 
fine  writing.  In  a  good  hand.  Donald,  strain  his 
eyes  as  he  might,  could  not  make  out  a  single  word  of 
It. 

Now  came  the  Impulse  to  rush  Inside,  seize  the 
paper,  jerk  loose  the  bag,  and  make  away  with 
both.     Donald  had  Indeed  slipped  off  his  snowshoes 


SECRETED  EVIDENCE  245 

preparatory  to  entrance  when  a  great  yelling  and 
hallooing  in  the  forest  near  by  caused  him  to  change 
his  plan  of  action.  Slipping  on  his  rackets  again,  he 
sped  swiftly  back  toward  the  camp.  He  had  hardly 
disappeared,  when  the  old  squaw  pushed  aside  the 
home-made  doorway  of  her  strange  dwelling,  and 
looked  curiously  in  the  direction  of  the  noises. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE   BROTHERS 

/^NE  by  one,  exhausted,  but  joyful,  the  trappers 
^^  of  the  Free-Traders'  Brotherhood  straggled 
into  their  long-sought  camp.  Nearly  all  had  small 
packs  on  their  backs,  as  though  the  provisions  secured 
had  been  distributed  around  evenly.  In  the  lead,  as 
usual,  was  Charley  Seguis.  At  the  end  of  the  proces- 
sion came  two  or  three  wounded  trappers,  supported 
by  their  comrades. 

One  of  the  first  to  greet  the  arrivals  was  Donald 
McTavish.  His  wonder  at  the  skill  and  stamina 
that  carried  the  men  through  that  awful  storm  ex- 
pressed itself  in  eagerness  to  assist  in  relieving  men 
of  their  packs.  The  gaunt,  half-starved  five  that 
had  been  left  at  Sturgeon  Lake  pounced  upon  the 
food,  and,  without  more  ado,  started  to  brew  pails 
of  tea,  and  to  thaw  out  meat.  In  the  midst  of  his 
work,  Donald  suddenly  found  himself  side  by  side 
with  Bill  Thompson,  the  voyageur  who  had  arrived 
the  night  before.  At  a  moment  when  they  were  un- 
observed, the  old  man  spoke  into  the  young  man's 
ear. 

"  I  want  to  see  you  alone  at  the  earliest  oppor- 
tunity," he  said. 

Donald  looked  at  his  companion  in  amazement, 


THE  BROTHERS  247 

and  saw  something  in  the  other's  face  that  drew  in- 
stant assent. 

The  story  of  Seguis's  party  was  soon  told.  The 
men  had  been  traveling  hardly  an  hour  when  the 
storm  overtook  them.  From  an  eminence,  they  had 
seen  the  pursuit  of  the  Hudson  Bay  men,  and,  though 
they  had  run  at  top  speed,  the  packs  of  provisions 
had  retarded  them  to  such  an  extent  that  their  pur- 
suers were  gaining  steadily.  When  the  storm  broke, 
however,  these  very  provisions  saved  their  lives,  for 
the  Hudson  Bay  men,  being  without  means  of  shelter 
or  sustenance,  had  given  up  the  chase,  rather  than 
lose  their  lives  in  a  pursuit  of  which  the  favorable 
outcome  was  so  problematical.  Seguis,  striking  into 
the  usual  trail  to  the  camp,  had  overtaken  his  men 
that  night,  while  they  were  still  struggling  on,  and 
had  ordered  a  halt.  Confident  of  their  safety,  they 
had  camped,  and  then  resumed  their  march  at  day- 
break, finding  their  bearings,  and  keeping  them,  by 
the  skill  known  to  woodcraft. 

It  was  now  noon,  and  there  was  still  no  abate- 
ment in  the  storm.  After  a  good  meal,  Donald 
sought  out  Bill  Thompson,  while  the  other  men 
huddled  in  their  tents,  and  recounted  the  experiences 
of  the  hazardous  march. 

"  Didn't  I  hear  somebody  call  you  McTavish?" 
asked  the  old  trapper,  suddenly  dropping  the  gar- 
rulousness  that  had  characterized  him  so  far,  and 
looking  at  the  young  man  out  of  keen  gray  eyes. 

"  Yes."  Donald's  perplexity  at  this  strange  in- 
terview increased. 


248  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

"  Son  of  the  commissioner,  are  you?  " 

"Yes,  lam.     Why?" 

"  I  used  to  know  your  father,  many  years  ago;  but 
things  went  differently  for  us  after  a  while,  and  I 
lost  track  of  him.  I  haven't  seen  him  in  twenty 
years.     Fine  man,  he  Is,  though." 

"  YouVe  a  Hudson  Bay  man,  then?"  Donald  in- 
quired. 

"Oh,  my,  yes!  Been  one  all  my  life,  and  my 
boys  are  trapping  for  the  Company  now,  down  on  the 
English  River  district.     That's  where  I  came  from." 

"  Well,  you  hadn't  better  stay  here  any  longer 
than  you  can  help,  or  you'll  never  get  away.  These 
fellows  are  f fee-traders,  you  know." 

"  I  gathered  as  much  from  that  loose-mouthed 
jay,  Baptlste.  The  reason  I  spoke  to  you  Is  that  I 
want  to  find  out  where  I  can  lay  hold  of  Angus  Fltz- 
patrlck,  the  Fort  Severn  factor.  Had  a  little  trou- 
ble In  my  section,  and  I  thought  I'd  just  shift  up  here 
for  a  while.  I've  lost  most  of  the  season  now,  and 
I've  got  to  get  busy." 

Iponald  outlined  briefly  the  position  of  the  factor 
and  the  reason  that  took  him  away  from  the  fort  at 
this  time  of  the  year.  Then  an  idea,  full-clothed, 
leaped  Into  his  mind. 

"  YouVe  seen  that  pile  of  furs  over  there,  haven't 
you?  "  he  asked,  indicating  the  rich  haul  of  the  free- 
traders. 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  I  want  you  to  investigate  them  on  the  sly, 
and  learn  about  how  many  there  are.     I'm  the  cap- 


THE  BROTHERS  249 

tain  of  a  post  on  the  Dickey  River,  and  I  engage  you 
now  as  my  messenger  and  representative.  Give  up 
your  idea  of  trapping  for  this  winter.  IVe  plenty  for 
you  to  do.  No  one  knows  anything  about  you  here, 
and  I  think  you  can  get  away  without  being  stopped. 

"  Drive  like  the  devil  to  the  Hudson  Bay  camp 
twenty  miles  up  the  lake,  and  tell  old  Fitzpatrick  the 
best  inventory  of  furs  you  can  secure  before  you 
leave.  Then,  tell  him  to  quit  worrying  about  these 
free-traders  here.  Tell  him  there  is  a  huge  train  of 
trading  supplies  from  a  French  company  within 
thirty  miles  of  this  camp  somewhere,  and  say  that, 
if  he  wants  to  put  an  end  to  this  business  to  capture 
that  train  before  it  arrives. 

"  These  men  will  starve  here  in  a  little  while,  if 
they  don't  lay  in  a  lot  of  grub,  for  what  they  stole 
the  other  day  can't  last  very  long.  Now,  if  the 
Frenchles  get  through  with  their  trains  first,  Fitz- 
patrick will  have  a  devil  of  a  time  beating  these  men. 
They  are  determined  and  brainy,  at  least  the  leader 
IS,  and  they  have  a  catch  of  unusually  fine  furs  —  a 
remarkable  catch.  Tell  him,  if  he  wants  to  break 
the  back  of  this  trouble,  to  stop  that  French  train. 
Last  of  all,  ask  him  to  have  ten  men  with  provisions 
go  to  the  big  pine  at  Muskeg  Point,  and  wait  there 
till  I  come.  It  may  be  several  days  but  I'll  come 
somehow.  Tell  him,  whatever  he  does,  to  do 
this. 

"  Now,  Thompson,  the  factor  and  I  have  had  a 
lot  of  trouble  this  winter,  and  the  chances  are  that 
we  will  have  a  lot  more,  but  I  want  you  to  tell  him 


250         THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

that  Donald  McTavish  sent  you  with  those  messages, 
and  that  Fm  faithful  to  the  Company  through  every- 
thing.'^ 

''  Well,  Mr.  McTavish,"  said  the  old  man,  *'  I'll 
have  to  pull  my  freight  In  this  storm,  I  guess,  and  in 
the  middle  of  the  night,  too.  Possibly,  to-morrow 
morning  may  be  clear,  and,  If  It  Is,  I  doubt  if  I  could 
explain  my  destination  satisfactorily.  I'll  move  to- 
night." 

"  And  I'll  help  you,"  said  Donald. 

By  midnight,  there  was  still  no  change  In  the 
weather.  The  young  man  crawled  from  his  shelter 
and  sought  out  Thompson,  who,  with  his  dogs,  oc- 
cupied a  tent  near  the  ruins  of  the  old  warehouse. 
A  tiny  pack  of  provisions  that  had  been  stolen  and 
saved  during  the  day  Thompson  put  upon  his  rickety 
sledge. 

"  Did  you  get  a  chance  to  look  over  those  furs?  " 
asked  McTavish. 

"Sure;  I  spent  an  hour  with  'em,  and  I  don't 
think  my  estimate  will  be  off  more  than  a  hundred 
skins.     And,  say,  they're  beauties,  too." 

"  Remember  all  I  told  you  to  tell  FItzpatrlck." 

"  Yes.  Now,  to  get  down  to  the  lake !  This  Is 
a  northwest  wind,  and  I'll  have  to  fight  It  every  Inch 
of  the  way.     What's  the  landmark  by  the  camp?  '* 

Donald  told  him,  and  added: 

"  Thompson,  more  depends  upon  you  than  you 
have  any  Idea  of.  Tell  the  factor  to  hurry,  hurry, 
hurry,  if  he's  going  to  get  that  supply  train.  Good- 
by." 


THE  BROTHERS  251 

The  weather-beaten  voyageur  gripped  the  out- 
stretched hand,  and  led  the  dogs  over  the  new  snow 
to  the  lake.  It  would  be  bitter  work,  for  there  were 
drifts  and  no  crust. 

"  Look  here,  McTavish,  why  don't  you  make  your 
get-away  now  ?  "  suddenly  demanded  Thompson. 

"  Tm  on  a  hot  trail  of  another  sort  here,"  was  the 
curt  answer;  "  and  I  won't  go  until  I  have  followed 
it  to  the  end." 

Thompson  asked  no  more  questions,  but 
"  mushed  "  the  dogs,  and  a  minute  later  was  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  swirling  flakes. 

The  following  day  was  a  busy  one  In  the  free- 
traders' camp.  The  storm  did  not  abate  until  night- 
fall, and  during  that  time  the  men  were  engaged  in 
digging  their  habitations  clear  of  the  snow  that  al- 
most threatened  to  bury  them.  In  this  work, 
McTavish  cheerfully  took  a  hand,  and,  by  his  good- 
humored  banter,  won  his  way  to  the  hearts  of  his 
fellow-toilers.  Notwithstanding  his  industry,  the 
Hudson  Bay  man  kept  his  eye  open  for  glimpses  of 
Maria  who,  as  he  expected,  was  constantly  about, 
now  that  Charles  Seguls  had  returned.  He  was  sur- 
prised that  Seguls  had  nothing  to  say  to  him,  and 
wondered  anew  what  had  been  the  motive  of  his 
sudden  liberation.  The  Idea  of  connecting  Jean  and 
the  half-breed  never  entered  his  head. 

By  the  following  morning  the  air  was  clear  and 
prickly  with  cold,  and  the  sky  seemed  as  though 
newly  polished  when  the  sun  rose.  The  days  were 
becoming  longer  now,  and  the  daylight  hours  nearly 


252         THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

equaled  those  of  darkness.  It  was  when  Donald  had 
given  up  the  idea  of  Seguis's  desiring  to  see  him  that 
the  unexpected  happened.  The  half-breed  ap- 
proached shortly  after  noon,  and  requested  his  pris- 
oner to  walk  a  little  way  into  the  woods,  as  he  had 
something  to  communicate.  Puzzled,  but  prepared 
for  anything,  Donald  agreed.  Subconsciously,  he 
felt  that  this  was  to  be  one  of  the  crises  of  his  life, 
and  he  gathered  himself  to  meet  it.  The  same  spirit 
of  aggressiveness  and  determination  that  had  char- 
acterized him  since  his  liberation  possessed  him  now. 
He  resolved  to  take  command  of  the  situation  if  he 
could;  if  not,  to  make  his  defeat  seem  a  victory. 
The  first  wheels  of  his  machinery  of  reprisal  and  re- 
venge had  been  set  in  motion  with  Thompson's  de- 
parture, two  nights  before.  Already,  the  Hudson 
Bay  men  had  had  thirty-six  hours  to  block  the  French 
approach  to  the  free-traders'  camp.  Perhaps,  It  was 
concerning  this  very  thing  that  Charley  Seguis  wished 
to  speak  to  him. 

For  a  quarter  of  an  hour  they  trudged  In  silence 
through  the  forest.  A  fallen  tree  at  last  projected 
across  their  path,  and  Seguis  set  an  example  by  sitting 
down.     Donald  followed  suit. 

"  As  you  can  imagine,"  began  Seguis  evenly, 
"  what  I  have  to  say  to  you  Is  not  pleasant.  I  have 
a  message  to  deliver." 

"  Who  from?  "  Donald,  reviewing  quickly  the  per- 
sons with  whom  Seguis  might  have  come  In  contact, 
could  think  of  no  one  who  would  send  him  a  message. 

Seguis  £arrled. 


THE  BROTHERS  253 

"  Perhaps,  you  remember  writing  a  letter  that 
night  in  the  cabin?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  it  was  delivered." 

There  was  an  instant's  silence,  as  the  significance 
of  this  flashed  on  Donald. 

"  H-m,  I  see,"  he  remarked  quietly,  "  and  you 
bring  the  answer?  " 

"  Yes,  here  it  is."  Seguis  handed  over  the  letter, 
upon  the  back  of  which  Jean  had  written. 

Donald,  with  considerable  diificulty,  read  the  al- 
most Illegible  lines,  and,  when  he  came  to  the  signa- 
ture, laughed  aloud. 

"  This  is  absurd,"  he  said  calmly,  putting  the  let- 
ter in  his  pocket.  "  That  is  not  Miss  Fitzpatrick's 
handwriting." 

"  I  must  ask  you  to  believe  she  wrote  that  mes- 
sage," rejoined  Seguis,  coldly. 

"  Well,  I  don't  believe  it,  and  I  won't,"  was 
Donald's  equally  cool  retort.  "  It's  a  hoax,  pure 
and  simple." 

*'  The  writing  may  be  a  hoax,  but  the  sense  Is 
not." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  asked  Donald, 
sharply. 

"  I  mean  that  what  is  contained  in  that  letter  goes 
as  it  stands.  I  will  give  you  a  safe-conduct  out  of 
the  country,  if  you'll  accept  it.  If  you  won't,  I  shall 
restore  you  to  the  Hudson  Bay  officials,  with  an 
apology  for  having  Interfered  with  justice." 
Seguis's  tone  was  level  and  determined. 


254  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

McTavish  lost  color. 

"  You  can't  mean  that,  Seguis,"  he  said,  earnestly. 

"  I  do  mean  it,"  was  the  inflexible  reply. 

Donald  reflected  for  a  moment.  The  situation 
was  getting  out  of  his  hands.  He  must  dominate 
matters  at  all  costs.  The  plans  that  he  had  set  in 
motion  must  not  stop  until  they  had  gone  on  to  their 
inevitable,  crushing  conclusion.  It  was  evident  that 
the  half-breed  was  equally  determined.  The  battle 
now  lay  between  them. 

"  I  refuse  to  go,"  he  said,  resolutely. 

"  Is  that  final?  "  asked  Seguis. 

"Absolutely!" 

"  Well,  then,  to-morrow,  you  start  up  the  lake  to 
the  other  camp."  Seguis  rose  from  his  seat,  indif- 
ferently. "  I  guess  we've  nothing  left  to  discuss," 
he  added,  and  began  to  walk  back  toward  the  camp. 

"  Seguis,  wait!  "  Donald's  face  was  ghastly  with 
the  resolve  that  had  come  to  him,  but  he  spoke  with 
an  even,  commanding  voice,  which  arrested  the  other. 
"  You  must  not  do  that.     It  would  be  murder." 

"  How  so?  You  have  your  opportunity  to  avoid 
it." 

"Would  you  murder  your  own  flesh  and  blood? 
Tell  me,  Seguis,  would  you  do  that?  "  The  voice 
was  still  even,  but  the  eyes  that  searched  those  of  the 
half-breed  were  bright  with  an  intense  fire. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  *  my  own  flesh  and 
blood?'  Are  you  going  crazy,  McTavish?"  de- 
manded the  half-breed,  feeling,  he  knew  not  why,  a 
mysterious  fear  move  within  him. 


THE  BROTHERS  255 

"  Crazy !  No,  indeed,  my  good  Seguls  —  only 
too  far  from  it,  I  sometimes  think!  "  was  the  spoken 
reply.  But  over  and  over  to  himself,  McTavish  was 
saying:  "He  doesn't  know  It!  He  doesn't  know 
It!" 

"Well,  what  do  you  mean  then?'' 

"Just  what  I  say;  that.  If  you  send  me  back  to 
the  other  camp,  you'll  be  murdering  your  own  flesh 
and  blood.  Good  God !  man,  don't  you  know  who 
your  father  was?  " 

"  No  —  she  never  told  me."  Seguls,  In  a  dazed 
manner,  Indicated  the  camp  where  Maria  still 
prowled  about.     "  Wh  —  who  was  he?" 

"  The  —  the  same  as  mine  !  The  man  who  sits 
In  the  commissioner's  chair  to-day  — " 

"  Not  McTavish,  the  McTavish?  "  cried  the  half- 
breed,  trembling  from  head  to  foot.  "  No,  no.  It 
can't  be!     Don't  say  so!  " 

"  But  It  Is,  and  that's  all  there  Is  about  It,"  growled 
Donald,  grimly.  "Why?  What  difference  does  It 
make  to  you  ?  " 

"  Then  you  —  you,  Captain  McTavish,  you  are 
my  half-brother?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  I  was  about  to  kill  you,  and  I  have  already 
tried  once,  and  my  mother  has  tried,  and  Tom  — 
oh,  why  haven't  I  known  this  before?  Why  didn't 
she  tell  me?" 

For  the  moment,  Seguls  seemed  utterly  lost  in  the 
mazes  of  his  own  thoughts  and  memories.  He 
stood  with  folded  arms,  his  head  hanging  upon  his 


ZS6         THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

breast,  while  his  lips  moved  in  self-communion. 
Then  came  the  reaction,  and  disbelief,  and  it  was 
necessary  to  go  over  the  ground  with  him  from  begin- 
ning to  end.  Concisely  and  briefly,  Donald  outlined 
the  whole  march  of  events  that  had  led  up  to  this 
inevitable  revelation. 

Then,  as  never  before,  the  Hudson  Bay  man  real- 
ized how  far-reaching  and  potent  are  the  little  things 
of  life,  and,  after  all,  how  far  from  free  agents  we 
are  sometimes.  Forty-five  years  before,  perhaps,  his 
father,  alone  in  the  wilds,  had  yielded  to  the  warm, 
dusky  beauty  of  an  Indian  princess,  and  now,  when, 
by  all  the  laws  of  chance  and  custom,  that  germ  of 
evil  should  have  expired,  it  sprang  into  life  and  prop- 
agated a  harvest  of  intrigue  and  death.  And  he, 
the  son,  by  no  fault  of  his  own,  was  unwillingly  but 
unavoidably  involved  in  the  penalty. 

To  Seguis  the  meaning  of  it  all  came  as  a  blinding 
flash.  In  an  instant,  he  analyzed  his  heritage  of 
ambition  and  knew  the  desires  of  his  mother  for 
what  they  were.  He  looked  back  now  upon  his  life 
of  advancement  with  discerning  eyes,  and,  suddenly, 
ahead  of  him,  not  far  now  since  this  revelation,  he 
saw  a  shining  goal. 

"  Then,  I  am  the  rightful  heir  of  the  commis- 
sioner? "  he  asked,  in  an  awed  voice. 

"  Yes,"  Donald  answered,  bitterly.  "  You  are 
everything  and,  by  law,  can  have  everything;  I  am 
no  one,  and,  by  the  same  law,  can  have  nothing  but 
what  affection  or  pity  dictates.  But  it  is  not  because 
of  this  that  I  spoke  to  you,"  he  went  on,  proudly. 


THE  BROTHERS  257 

"  It  was  to  save  my  life  at  least  for  a  little  while,  as 
I  have  work  to  do." 

"  And  so  have  I  —  so  have  I !  "  muttered  Seguis, 
abstractedly,  his  eyes  burning  bright.  "  It's  all 
right,  McTavIsh;  nothing  will  come  of  this.  You 
can  either  stay,  or  I'll  fit  you  out  for  the  trail  if  you 
want  to  take  it,"  he  added.  But  it  was  easy  to  see 
that  his  mind  was  not  in  his  words. 

Donald  uttered  no  thanks.  He  had  gained  his 
end;  he  would  not  be  sent  back  to  the  Hudson  Bay 
camp.  He  looked  at  his  brooding  companion,  fur- 
tively. 

"  Let  him  enjoy  his  hour  of  triumph  and  dream- 
ing," he  thought,  good-humoredly;  "it  won't  last 
long."  And  he  started  back  through  the  woods  to 
the  camp. 

Seguis,  apparently  wrapped  in  pleasurable  plans, 
followed  slowly  at  a  distance. 


CHAPTER  XXiy 

NINE   POINTS  OF  THE  LAW 

T?OR  two  days,  affairs  In  the  camp  remained  un- 
-*-  changed.  Donald,  unobtrusively  watching 
events,  saw  Charley  Seguls  often  In  conference  with 
old  Maria.  The  faces  of  both  were  lighted  with  a 
certain  joy,  but,  at  times,  that  of  the  half-breed 
seemed  to  assume  a  brooding  somberness.  McTav- 
ish,  for  his  part,  was  merely  waiting.  After  that 
stormy  day  by  the  blasted  pine,  and  the  glimpse  he 
had  caught  of  the  coveted  certificate,  a  change  had 
been  wrought  in  him.  He  temporarily  relinquished 
the  idea  of  obtaining  the  paper:  that  had  come 
later.  Other  things  of  more  vital  importance  de- 
manded his  attention,  things  that  boded  no  good  for 
these  men  in  whose  midst  he  lived,  unmolested,  an 
alien.  He  had  seen  opportunity  to  serve  the  Com- 
pany, that  Inflexible  master  which  had  almost  crushed 
his  life  out  more  than  once,  and  the  Inherent  loyalty 
in  him  had  responded.  Where  before  he  had  been 
willing  to  give  his  life  in  defense  of  his  own  Ideals, 
now  he  was  setting  personal  desire  aside  that  the 
Company  might  be  served. 

In  the  free-traders'  camp,  the  situation  was  once 
more  becoming  acute.  Supplies  were  again  low,  al- 
though the  week   allowed   for  the   arrival  of  the 

258 


NINE  POINTS  OF  THE  LAW        259 

French  pack-trains  was  not  up.  The  men  were  loath 
to  leave  the  camp  exposed,  to  search  for  the  ex- 
pected arrivals,  and  they  hung  on,  trusting  that  the 
traders  would  come  through. 

The  third  morning  after  the  talk  with  Seguis,  the 
Hudson  Bay  man  opened  another  conversation  be- 
tween them. 

"  I've  changed  my  mind,  Seguis,  about  staying 
here  any  longer,"  he  said.  "  The  other  day,  you 
promised  to  fit  me  out  for  the  trail.  If  I  wanted  to 
go,  and  IVe  decided  to  take  advantage  of  that  offer, 
if  It's  still  open." 

"  It  Is  still  open,"  replied  the  other.  "  What 
has  changed  your  mind  so  suddenly?  " 

"Oh,  everything!"  was  the  despondent  answer. 
"  I  can't  see  much  ahead  of  me,  and  I  might  as  well 
hit  the  trail.  I  think  I'll  head  for  Labrador.  I  can 
make  it  just  about  when  spring  breaks,  and  I'll  start 
over  again." 

A  light  of  exultation  leaped  Into  Seguls's  eyes,  but 
he  did  not  betray  his  emotion  either  by  voice  or  ges- 
ture. 

"  As  you  like,"  he  said.  "  When  do  you  wish  to 
leave?     I  can't  give  you  much  food." 

"  To-day,  if  I  can.  I'm  sick  of  this  whole  busi- 
ness. I'll  take  what  you'll  give  me.  And  I'll  say 
this,  that  you've  treated  me  white  —  under  the  cir- 
cumstances." 

"  Please,  don't  say  anything  about  it,"  rejoined 
Seguis,  quickly. 

An  hour  later,  Donald  stood  ready  for  his  de- 


26o  THE  WILDEKNESS  TRAIL 

parture,  the  mask  of  humility  and  depression  hiding 
the  fear  and  worry  In  his  heart.  He  must  have  one 
stroke  of  luck,  and  It  had  not  come !  Well,  It  wasn't 
absolutely  necessary,  but  It  would  help. 

Suddenly,  out  of  the  woods  burst  a  man  on  snow- 
shoes,  running  at  top  speed  toward  the  camp.  Don- 
ald's heart  leaped  within  him.  Had  he  guessed  right, 
after  all?  Had  things  happened  as  he  hoped?  The 
man  glissaded  down  the  hill,  and,  without  any  at- 
tempt to  check  his  progress,  began  to  yell  at  the  top 
of  his  voice: 

"  Queekl  Ze  help  I  We  must  have  him.  I  am 
of  ze  party  Frangais,  We  haf  been  attack'  an'  cap- 
tur'  by  ze  Hudson  Bay  men.  Only  I  haf  escap'.  By 
gar!  Come!  Eet  Is  only  five  mile,  maybe  four.  I 
win  lead  you.     Come !     Come !  " 

Instantly,  there  was  uproar  In  the  camp.  Every- 
one shouted  questions  and  answers  at  once.  A  dozen 
men  gave  orders.  Yet,  In  ten  minutes,  Seguls's  whole 
force  stood  In  Its  snowshoes,  with  cartridge-belts 
strapped  on,  and  rifles  ready.  Grim  determination 
and  anger  were  written  on  every  face. 

Donald,  In  the  confusion,  slipped  away  swiftly 
over  the  hard  crust,  and  took  a  position  behind  a 
breastwork  of  shrubbery,  whence  he  could  watch 
operations  unseen.  Five  minutes  later,  the  free- 
traders, with  Seguls  at  the  heels  of  the  voluble  guide, 
swung  away,  leaving  a  handful  of  wounded  to  look 
after  the  camp. 

Now,  It  was  McTavIsh's  turn  to  fly.  Without 
looking  behind,  he  sped  In  the  opposite  direction,  and 


NINE  POINTS  OF  THE  LAW       261 

laid  his  course  for  the  big  pine  at  Muskeg  Point,  two 
miles  away.  Despite  the  situation  in  which  he  was 
placed,  the  prospect  of  action,  even  the  very  exercise 
as  he  trotted  along,  raised  a  joy  in  his  breast.  The 
time  for  reprisal  had  come.  Though  he  should  go 
into  exile  immediately  after,  the  blow  he  was  about 
to  strike  would  never  be  forgotten. 

Arrived  at  the  big  pine,  his  heart  dropped  like  a 
plummet.  There  were  no  men  there,  nor  any  tracks 
of  men.  Could  it  be  that  the  factor  had  ignored  his 
directions?  No,  hardly  that,  for  the  French  trains 
had  been  captured.  What,  then,  was  the  matter? 
With  his  eyes  at  their  keenest,  he  looked  about  him. 

The  eye  of  the  trapper  is,  under  ordinary  condi- 
tions, as  powerful  as  some  field-glasses;  moreover, 
it  is  trained  to  see,  not  merely  to  look.  In  a  minute, 
Donald  resolved  a  weather-beaten  bump  on  a  near- 
by tree  into  the  capote-shrouded  head  of  a  man  who 
was  peering  from  cover.  He  waved  his  hand,  and 
the  man  stepped  out.  In  a  moment  more,  others 
came  forth,  ten  in  all,  and  surrounded  him,  plying 
him  with  questions.  Timmins  was  there,  and  Buxton, 
and  old  Bill  Thompson.  When  the  greetings  had 
passed,  greetings  reserved,  but  full  of  feeling,  Mc- 
Tavish  explained  the  situation  at  the  camp  he  had 
just  left,  and  indicated  his  project.  Then,  in  the 
lead,  he  began  the  stealthy  return  march. 

It  was  barely  eleven  o'clock  when  the  party  ar- 
rived at  the  edge  of  the  woods  near  the  camp.  Of 
the  five  men  that  had  been  left,  two  were  away  fish- 
ing, and  the  others,  barely  able  to  struggle  about, 


1262  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

were  seated  around  a  fire  smoking.  Near  them,  and 
in  the  center  of  the  camp,  well  protected  by  old 
blankets,  was  the  huge  pile  of  furs.  This  was  the 
object  of  McTavIsh's  solicitude.  The  first  step  in 
his  plan  had  been  to  return  to  the  Company  the  val- 
uable skins  that  the  free-traders  had  collected.  With 
those  gone,  the  whole  organization  would  fall  to 
the  ground ;  it  would  have  no  excuse  for  being.  Per- 
haps, then,  its  members  would  come  back  into  the 
Company's  roll! 

Detailing  a  couple  of  his  men  to  capture  the  un- 
suspecting anglers,  Donald  gave  the  word  to  advance. 
So  quietly  was  this  done  that  the  three  about  the 
camp-fire,  deep  in  some  argument,  did  not  notice 
their  approach. 

"  Well,  boys,  the  game's  up,"  cried  Donald,  fifty 
yards  away,  and  the  three  looked  into  the  rifles 
leveled  at  them,  In  utter  stupefaction. 

It  was  a  bloodless  victory.  Swift  hands  disarmed 
the  free-traders,  and,  presently,  the  surprised  fisher- 
men were  marched  in  from  the  lake  to  join  their  com- 
rades in  misfortune.  As  there  was  much  to  be  done, 
Donald  disposed  of  the  men  in  a  characteristic  man- 
ner. He  had  their  blankets  moved  over  to  a  stump 
that  rose  four  or  five  feet  above  the  snow.  Then, 
he  tied  a  foot  of  each  with  a  long  strand  of  rope, 
fastening  the  rope  to  the  stump.  A  man  investigated 
frequently  to  see  that  no  one  had  tampered  with  the 
tether. 

It  was  Donald's  idea  to  save  the  furs  without  in- 
jury, if  possible.     Therefore,  he  and  his  men  set 


NINE  POINTS  OF  THE  LAW        263 

about  protecting  them  with  a  rude  breastwork  of 
logs.  What  solid  embers  of  the  burned  warehouse 
still  remained  were  dragged  across  the  snow,  and 
piled  on  that  side  from  which  Seguis  and  his  men 
were  expected  to  return.  The  woods  sounded  with 
the  blows  of  axes  as  the  skilled  woodsmen  felled 
dead  trees,  or  cut  branches,  to  fill  the  spaces  between 
logs.  While  this  work  went  on  McTavish  person- 
ally rounded  up  the  supplies  of  the  camp.  There 
was  little  food,  but  considerable  ammunition.  Both 
of  these  he  deposited  behind  the  breastwork  of  logs. 
The  wretches  at  their  tether  watched  him  with  tragic 
eyes. 

One  man  made  tea,  which  all  hands  stopped  long 
enough  to  drink.  Then,  the  frenzied  work  went  on 
again.  By  mid-afternoon,  a  formidable  defense  for 
the  men  had  been  erected.  Behind  it,  the  blankets 
and  accouterments  of  the  Hudson  Bay  party  were 
gathered. 

Suddenly,  a  distant  shot  was  heard.  Then,  there 
was  silence.  It  was  as  though  there  had  been  a  signal 
given  to  which  there  was  no  reply. 

"  Mac,"  said  Timmins,  "  the  old  man  ought  to 
forgive  you  for  this." 

"  I  don't  care  whether  he  does,  or  not.  Tm  not 
doing  this  for  him.  But,  by  the  way,  Timmins, 
where's  the  factor  now?  Did  he  go  with  the  boys 
to  cut  off  the  Frenchmen?  " 

*'  No;  he's  laid  up  at  the  old  camp.  You  know 
that  day  you  were  captured,  well,  he  was  so  mad  at 
Seguis  and  his  men  that  he  lit  out  in  the  pursuit. 


264         THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

He's  ugly  when  he's  mad,  but  he's  too  Harned  old 
to  do  them  foolish  things.  When  he  came  back,  he 
was  chilled,  and  what  with  getting  over  his  wound, 
and  the  exposure  of  the  chase,  and  everything,  he 
came  down  sick  again.  So,  when  Bill  Thompson  ar- 
rived with  your  orders,  he  turned  'em  over  to  Mc- 
Lean, and  let  him  do  what  he  liked.  McLean  hasn't 
been  favored  with  too  much  brains,  but  he  knew 
enough  to  follow  them.  Now,  it  looks  like  you  had 
a  strangle-hold  on  the  whole  business.  The  other 
bunch  got  the  supply-trains,  you  say,  an'  we've  got 
the  furs.  Don't  know  as  I'd  care  to  be  a  free-trader 
about  now,  or  a  little  later." 

*'  Wait  a  minute  I  "  cried  Donald,  who  had  been 
trying  vainly  to  interrupt.  *'  Is  the  factor  really  sick 
this  time?  " 

"  Yes.  Dr.  Craven's  with  him  all  the  time,  and 
he  let  it  out  that  the  old  fellow's  about  ready  to  tune 
up  his  eternal  harp." 

"  And  Miss  Fitzpatrick?    Where's  she?  " 

"  She's  with  him,  nursing  him  like  a  child.  But, 
whew!  the  way  he  treats  her  when  he  gets  cranky! 
How  she  stands  it,  I  don't  know." 

Donald  asked  no  more  questions.  His  thoughts 
leaped  the  desolate,  frozen  miles  to  where  a  lonely 
girl  watched  hour  by  hour  beside  the  wretched  bed 
of  her  father,  only  relieved  now  and  then  by  a  per- 
functory and  uninterested  doctor.  He  had  not  al- 
lowed himself  to  think  of  her  often;  it  was  a  danger- 
ous and  poignant  subject  for  him.  He  had  kept  his 
mind  upon  the  plans  that  he  had  set  in  operation. 


NINE  POINTS  OF  THE  LAW       265 

If  those  failed,  he  might  entertain  the  sickening 
thought  of  never  seeing  her  again.  He  had  no  right 
to  marry  her  and  ruin  her  life,  willing  though  she 
might  be.  Perhaps,  it  would  be  a  cruel  mercy  to  go 
away.  All  this,  if  his  plans  failed.  If  they  suc- 
ceeded, there  was  still  the  question  of  Charley  Se- 
guis  and  his  own  nonentity,  the  certificate  in  Marians 
muskrat-skin  bag,  and  — 

"Hey!  What's  this?"  cried  Timmins  suddenly, 
sitting  bolt  upright. 

Donald  peered  over  the  protection,  and  stiffened 
into  immobility.  Out  from  the  edge  of  the  forest, 
silently  and  swiftly,  poured  Charley  Seguis  and  his 
band,  their  guns  held  in  readiness.  Suddenly,  they 
saw  the  change  that  had  come  over  the  camp,  and 
halted  abruptly  in  amazed  groups. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

AGAINST  FEARFUL  ODDS 

T^ONALD  seized  his  opportunity,  and  stood  up  to 
^^   his  full  height,  exposing  his  head  and  shoulders. 

"  Seguis,"  he  said,  ''  you're  covered.  I've  come 
back  with  my  men,  and  taken  possession  of  your  furs. 
I  call  upon  you  to  surrender." 

Though  a  hundred  yards  away,  the  amazement 
depicted  on  the  half-breed's  face  was  apparent.  The 
men  behind  the  barricade  had  thrust  the  long,  black 
barrels  of  their  guns  through  loopholes  left  for  that 
purpose,  and  trained  them  upon  the  disorganized 
free-traders. 

For  a  tense  minute,  there  was  no  reply.  Then, 
Seguis  spoke. 

"  Let  me  talk  a  moment  with  my  men,  will  you? '' 
he  asked. 

"  I'll  give  you  five  minutes  by  the  clock.'*  Don- 
ald drew  out  the  queer  gold  watch  that  was  an  heir- 
loom, and  held  it  in  his  hand  while  the  seconds  ticked 
away.     Seguis  talked  rapidly  to  his  followers. 

"  Time's  up !  "  Donald  snapped  at  last,  shoving 
the  watch  back  into  the  fur-lined  pocket  of  his  jacket. 
"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  Will  you  put  down 
your  arms  peaceably,  or  shall  I  fire?  " 


AGAINST  FEARFUL  ODDS  267 

"  Fire  and  be  hanged!  '*  was  the  instant  reply,  as 
Seguis  raised  his  own  gun. 

Instantly,  the  ten  rifles  behind  the  barricade  barked 
as  one.  But,  in  the  same  second,  as  though  by  pre- 
concerted signal,  the  forty  men  at  the  edge  of 
the  forest  dropped  flat  on  the  snow,  and  the  bullets 
whistled  over  them.  The  next  moment,  they  had 
leaped  to  their  feet,  and  scrambled  into  the  shelter 
of  trees  and  brush. 

"  Well,  boys,  we're  in  for  it  now,"  said  Donald 
cheerfully,  happier  now  that  battle  offered  than  he 
had  been  for  many  weeks.  *'  They've  got  us  at  a  dis- 
advantage, and  the  odds  are  four  to  one,  so  every 
shot  must  count." 

"  Right-ol  "  rejoined  Timmins,  and  fell  to  whist- 
ling through  his  back  teeth,  a  sure  sign  with  him  of 
complete  satisfaction. 

Then  began  a  grilling  wait.  Occasionally,  a  dark 
form  would  appear  among  the  trees,  speeding  from 
shelter  to  shelter,  and  the  guns  of  the  besieged  would 
ring  out  sharply  into  the  still  air.  More  than  once, 
the  bullets  went  home,  and  the  runner  leaped  into  the 
air  with  a  yell,  and  rolled  over  and  over  upon  the 
snow. 

"  They're  surrounding  us,"  said  Donald  calmly. 
"  I  hate  to  do  it,  but  we'll  have  to  use  these  furs  after 
all,  and  a  fur  with  a  bullet  hole  in  it  isn't  worth  any- 
thing." 

He  called  for  volunteers  to  help  him  arrange  the 
protection,  and,  when  everyone  spoke,  told  off  alter- 
nate men  to  keep  the  enemy  covered  while  the  others 


268  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

worked.  The  bales  of  pelts  were  frozen  Into  the 
rigidity  of  Iron,  and  would  form  an  excellent  defense, 
but  they  were  not  now  In  the  proper  position  for  this. 
It  was  necessary  for  the  men  to  crawl  out  over  the 
low  line  that  lay  to  their  rear,  and  lift  other  bales 
back  Into  the  "  trench  "  that  was  formed  by  the  log 
barricade. 

The  free-traders  In  the  woods  were  aware  of  this 
necessity  for  exposure,  and  waited  until  a  man  started 
on  his  venturesome  journey.  Then,  they  all  blazed 
away  at  once.  McTavish  was  the  first  to  expose 
himself.  He  returned  with  a  bullet  hole  In  his  cap, 
and  minus  a  generous  share  of  one  boot-heel.  Then, 
strategy  was  resorted  to.  A  man  would  make  a 
feint  of  rushing  from  cover.  Instantly,  the  heads  of 
the  men  In  the  woods  would  appear,  lying  along  their 
gun-barrels,  and,  In  the  same  Instant,  the  bullets  from 
the  barricade  would  fly  thick.  After  one  such  feint, 
three  of  the  enemy  did  not  reappear,  and  then  the 
foe  began  to  grow  cautious,  never  knowing  when  the 
appearance  of  a  head  out  of  the  trench  meant  a  feint 
or  an  expedition. 

It  was  impossible  that  such  hazardous  work  should 
not  have  tragic  results.  Trip  after  trip,  Donald 
made  without  harm,  but  his  men  were  not  so  fortu- 
nate. One  was  killed  outright,  and  another,  game 
to  the  last,  threw  himself  back  among  his  companions, 
coughing  blood  from  a  bullet  hole  In  the  lung,  but 
with  two  bales  of  fur  In  his  hands. 

The  free-traders,  by  this  time,  had  almost  com- 
pleted their  circle,  and  could  fire  upon  the  besieged 


AGAINST  FEARFUL  ODDS  269 

from  every  side  except  that  which  led  down  to  the 
lake.  Consequently,  Donald  was  forced  to  cover 
every  direction  at  once,  and  could  not  concentrate 
more  than  two  rifles  upon  any  one  point.  Presently, 
the  firing  from  the  woods  became  hotter,  and  the 
Hudson  Bay  leader,  recognizing  the  symptoms, 
crawled  back  and  forth  In  the  narrow  trench,  speak- 
ing to  his  men. 

"  They're  probably  going  to  try  and  carry  oiir  posi- 
tion with  a  charge.  Shoot  to  kill,  but  don't  shoot  one 
man  —  Charley  Seguls." 

"  But,  Captain,  he's  the  ringleader,"  cried  Tlm- 
mlns,  annoyed.  "  If  you  finish  him,  the  rest  of  'em 
will  go  to  the  four  winds." 

"  I  know  It,"  replied  McTavIsh,  "  but  I  must  still 
ask  you  to  spare  him.  You  remember,  he  saved  my 
life  once,  although  he  didn't  mean  to,  and,  besides,  I 
have  other  and  better  reasons  for  asking  this:  rea- 
sons that  I  can't  tell  you  now.  In  time,  you'll  all 
know  —  if  we  can  get  out  of  this  thing  alive." 

"  Oh,  pshaw!  We'll  get  out  of  it  alive  all  right," 
drawled  Buxton. 

The  man  had  Yankee  blood  in  him  somewhere, 
for  now  he  was  chewing  tobacco  Industriously,  and 
staining  the  snow  In  front  of  the  barricade,  where  a 
loophole  between  the  logs  offered  him  opportunity 
for  marksmanship  of  varying  sorts. 

"  Here's  hoping,  boys,"  was  Donald's  rejoinder. 
"  Now,  their  plan  will  probably  be  this :  A  stiff  fire 
will  suddenly  be  poured  In  from  one  quarter  to  draw 
our  attention  there.    At  the  same  time,  a  charge  will 


270  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

start  from  the  opposite  side,  and  be  upon  us  before 
we  know  it.    Watch  for  it ! '' 

He  had  hardly  got  the  words  out  of  his  mouth, 
when  there  was  a  sudden,  fierce  volley  from  the 
point  just  back  of  the  black  spot  where  once  the  ware- 
house had  stood.  The  men  in  the  trench  crouched 
low. 

"  Watch  that  firing,  Timmins  and  Cameron,"  was 
the  order.    "  The  rest  face  the  other  way." 

The  seven  fighting  men  left,  swung  around,  and, 
in  a  minute,  saw  thirty  trees  suddenly  give  birth  to 
thirty  gray,  swift-moving  men,  who,  with  guns  swing- 
ing loosely  in  their  hands  swooped  down  the  declivity 
at  alarming  speed.    Seguis,  tall  and  lithe,  led  them. 

"  Fire  I  "  Five  of  the  charging  trappers  sprawled 
forward,  their  arms  outstretched,  guns  flying,  and 
snowshoes  plowing  the  loose  snow  that  covered  the 
surface. 

"  Fire !  "  One  rifle  only  responded  now :  the  ham- 
mers of  the  others  clicked  sharply  in  unison,  but 
there  was  no  explosion. 

Nevertheless,  the  charge  broke  into  precipitate 
retreat. 

"What's  the  matter  there,  boys?  " 

"Cartridges  no  blame  good!"  drawled  Buxton, 
trying  vainly  to  stanch  the  flow  of  blood  where  one 
of  his  fingers  had  been  carried  away.  "  Prob'ly 
they're  center-fire  cartridges  for  rim-fire  guns,  or  vicy- 
versy." 

McTavish  clenched  his  teeth. 

"  I  might  have  known  it,"  he  said.    "  These  rebels 


AGAINST  FEARFUL  ODDS  271 

have  collected  all  the  old  ammunition  they  could  find 
and  stored  It  here.  Some  of  'em  have  guns  made  in 
1850,  I  guess.'* 

Meanwhile,  a  rapid  examination  was  being  made. 
Buxton  was  right.  While  the  rifles  were  center-fire, 
a  great  many  of  the  cartridges  were  rim-fire,  and 
consequently  useless  unless  broken  and  the  powder 
and  ball  rammed  home  as  in  the  old  muzzle-loaders. 
There  were,  however,  among  the  little  mounds  of 
cartridges,  many  that  would  fit  the  guns,  and  these 
were  sorted  with  desperate  energy  In  the  lull  tha't 
followed  the  fighting. 

Presently,  one  of  the  free-traders,  with  a  piece  of 
blanket  tied  about  his  rifle-barrel,  appeared  in  the 
foreground.  The  besieged,  realizing  the  spirit  In 
which  the  sign  was  offered,  agreed  that  It  once  might 
have  represented  a  white  flag. 

"What  do  you  want?"  Inquired  Donald. 

"  Want  to  pick  up  our  dead  and  wounded." 

"  Go  ahead.  Are  you  ready  to  talk  surrender  yet? 
I  can  offer  you  every  consideration,  if  you  don't  go 
on  with  your  tactics." 

"  Quit  wasting  time,  McTavish,"  cried  Seguis, 
suddenly  appearing  beside  his  standard-bearer. 
"  We  won't  surrender  —  ever!  We  want  that  fort, 
and  we're  going  to  have  It.  If  you  get  out  now,  we 
won't  hurt  you.  If  you  keep  this  thing  up,  I  can't 
promise  anything.  My  Indians  here  are  getting  a 
little  excited." 

"  All  right,  if  that's  the  way  you  feel  about  it," 
Donald  retorted.     "Turn  'em  loose.     Say  I     Pick 


272  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

up  your  men  if  you  want  to,  but  only  two  men  on  the 
field  at  once.    Number  three  gets  a  bullet." 

"  All  right." 

A  moment  later,  a  couple  of  trappers,  unarmed, 
walked  out  upon  the  declivity,  and  began  to  haul 
their  dead  and  wounded  comrades  back  into  shelter. 
During  the  lull,  the  beseiged  filled  their  belts  with 
what  good  ammunition  there  was  —  ten  rounds  per 
man.  Bill  Thompson  wagged  his  beard  sagely 
over  the  lamentable  situation  they  now  faced,  and 
remarked  that  it  reminded  him  of  a  time  when 
he  — 

"Quick!"  rang  Donald's  alarmed  voice. 
*'  Through  the  logs !     Fire !  " 

Without  a  word,  the  men,  realizing  instinctively 
what  had  occurred,  shoved  the  noses-  of  their  guns 
through  the  loopholes  and  fired  pointblank,  without 
aiming,  at  the  band  of  men  that  had  stealthily  crept 
upon  them  from  behind  while  the  truce  negotiations 
had  been  going  on. 

They  were  barely  thirty  yards  away,  and  coming 
fast,  but  the  withering  hail  of  lead  that  greeted 
them  crumpled  their  front  line  as  though  it  were 
made  of  paper.  The  others,  unable  to  see  their  as- 
sailants, wavered  a  minute,  and  then  broke,  with  the 
exception  of  one  man. 

"  Hold  your  fire!  "  was  the  order,  and  the  fleeing 
trappers  gained  the  woods  unmolested. 

Not  so  the  brave  Indian  who  came  on.  There 
was  nothing  of  retreat  in  his  make-up.  He  had 
started  to  charge  the  fort,  and  take  it.    The  fort  was 


Donald,  quicker  than  he,  had  swung  the  man's  own  musket  by  the 

barrel  and  brought  it  down  with  all  his  might  on 

the  fur-covered  head. 


AGAINST  FEARFUL  ODDS  273 

still  untaken,  and  he  was  still  alive  —  two  things 
that  seemed  utterly  incongruous  to  his  mind. 

"  Don't  fire,"  said  McTavish. 

On  the  man  came,  amid  absolute  silence.  He  was 
at  the  wall  of  the  fort  when  suddenly  Donald  rose  to 
his  full  height,  flung  up  both  arms,  and  yelled  at  the 
top  of  his  voice  —  the  familiar  manner  of  stopping 
a  pursuing  wild  animal.  The  Indian,  instinctively 
taken  aback,  halted,  and  Donald  reached  over  and 
drew  the  gun  out  of  the  unresisting  hand,  while  a 
roar  of  laughter  went  up.  This  was  too  much  for 
the  brave,  who,  with  a  fearful  curse,  drew  his  knife, 
and  cleared  the  fort  wall  at  a  bound.  But  he  died 
In  mid  air,  for  Donald,  quicker  than  he,  had  swung 
the  man's  own  musket  by  the  barrel,  and  brought  it 
down  with  all  his  strength  upon  the  fur-covered  head. 
Instantly,  a  howl  went  up  from  the  forest,  followed 
by  a  volley,  which  McTavish  avoided  by  the  speed 
of  his  drop  into  the  trench.  But  others  who  had 
been  watching  were  careless,  and  did  not  fare  so  well. 
Two  of  the  men,  one  of  them  old  Bill  Thompson, 
dropped  dead  in  their  tracks.  The  man  who  had 
been  badly  wounded  In  the  first  fatalities  was  now 
out  of  his  misery,  and  there  remained  but  seven  to 
guard  the  furs,  and  the  honor  of  the  Hudson  Bay 
Company.  The  snow  inside  the  barricade  was 
stained  with  blood. 

But  there  was  no  time  now  to  sentimentalize.  The 
dead  were  passed  along  from  hand  to  hand  and 
piled  at  one  end,  the  brave  Indian  among  them. 
Buxton  had  lost  considerable  blood,  but  he  was  cheer- 


274  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

ful,  and  TImmins  whistled  continually.  Another  man 
had  a  ball  In  his  left  shoulder,  and  a  third  had  had 
his  cheek  grazed. 

Of  the  free-traders  It  was  Impossible  to  say  how 
many  were  dead  or  wounded;  Donald,  after  a  mo- 
ment's careful  reckoning,  felt  sure  that  more  than  a 
third  of  them,  if  not  half,  had  felt  lead. 

Now  however,  Seguls  changed  his  tactics.  The 
next  charge  came  from  three  points  at  once,  and 
Donald  met  it  as  best  he  could  with  three  volleys  — 
one  at  seventy-five  yards,  another  at  forty,  and  a 
third  at  ten  —  when  the  dark,  frenzied  faces  and 
flashing  eyes  of  the  free-traders  were  so  close  that 
the  streaks  of  yellow  flame  seemed  to  shoot  out  and 
touch  them.  The  loss  was  heavy  on  both  sides,  and 
for  the  first  time  Inside  the  barricade  demoralization 
reigned.  Had  the  attackers  possessed  the  one  neces- 
sary extra  ounce  of  heroism,  and  pressed  on  to  the 
goal,  they  could  have  won  It. 

Donald  himself  went  down  with  the  shock  of  a 
bullet  that  broke  his  left  arm;  two  others  of  his  men, 
who  had  stood  up  In  the  moment  of  excitement,  were 
dead,  and  two  others  severely  wounded.  Only  the 
unconcerned  TImmins  had  passed  through  the  ordeal 
unscathed. 

"  Water!  Heavens,  I  wish  I  had  some  water  I  " 
grunted  Buxton. 

"  Say,  Tim,'*  called  one  of  the  wounded  men, 
"  prop  me  up  In  front  of  this  hole,  and  I'll  show  'em 
I'm  good  yet." 

"  Same  here,"  said  the  other,  weakly. 


AGAINST  FEARFUL  ODDS  275 

Timmins  went  back  and  forth  between  them,  do- 
ing what  they  wished,  and  loading  their  guns.  Don- 
ald, grinning  with  the  pain  of  his  arm,  managed  to 
reload  his  rifle  with  his  right  hand.  Buxton,  swear- 
ing softly  to  himself,  accomplished  a  like  feat. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  Cap,  let  me  wing  Seguis  this 
time,  won't  you?  "  begged  Timmins. 

"Wing  him,  yes,  but  don't  kill  him.  IVe  got  a 
few  things  I  want  to  straighten  out  with  him,  if  we 
ever  get  out  of  here  alive,  and  I  don't  want  him 
dead  when  I  do  it,  either." 

"  All  right.  Look  out!  Here  they  come!  They 
must  want  this  place  mighty  bad  to  keep  this  up." 

Only  fifteen  men  answered  Seguis's  yell  this  time, 
and  they  did  not  seem  over  enthusiastic.  But  they 
swept  down  the  little  hill  swiftly,  scattered  wide 
apart. 

"  Shoot  slow  and  sure,'*  warned  Donald,  and  a 
moment  later  one  and  another  of  the  attackers  began 
to  drop  or  waver  in  their  tracks.    But  they  came  on. 

Seguis  threw  up  his  arms,  and  stopped  short. 
Then,  he  recovered  himself,  and  fought  his  way  on- 
ward. 

Inside  the  barricade,  Timmins  rolled  over  with  a 
little  sigh,  and  lay  still.  The  logs,  chipped  and  torn 
by  many  bullets,  were  now  like  a  sieve,  and  one  after 
another  of  the  defenders  released  his  gun,  and  lay 
still,  or  struggled  in  death  throes.  Only  Buxton  and 
McTavish  continued  to  fire. 

This  time  the  wave  of  advance  reached  its  high 
mark  at  the  very  logs  of  the  fort,  and  Seguis,  with 


276  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

a  wild  yell,  swung  his  gun  with  one  hand,  and  leaped. 
Donald  and  Buxton  struggled  up  to  meet  the  at- 
tack, swearing  like  madmen;  but,  just  at  that  mo- 
ment, unseen  by  all  of  them,  a  line  of  men  appeared 
at  the  edge  of  the  woods,  knelt  quickly,  and  let  loose 
a  volley  that  laid  the  attackers  low. 

Followed  an  uncanny  stillness,  which  was  broken 
only  by  the  horrid  sounds  of  the  wounded  and  dy- 
ing. Then,  down  the  little  declivity  broke  fifty 
men,  cheering  wildly,  and  a  minute  later  the  Hud- 
son Bay  Company  took  possession  of  its  own. 
They  found  McTavish  and  Buxton  pale  and  open- 
mouthed,  regarding  their  arrival  with  blank  faces. 
Behind  them,  the  trench  was  a  shambles.  Before 
the  barricade,  Seguis  sat  dazedly,  one  leg  pierced, 
and  an  arm  helpless  because  of  Timmlns's  bullet  in 
his  shoulder.  One  or  two  others  rested  on  their 
elbows,  half-conscious. 

The  newcomers  spoke  to  McTavish,  but  he  did 
not  seem  to  hear  them:  his  gaze  was  riveted  on 
something  that  had  started  down  the  incline.  He 
saw  a  team  of  six  magnificent  dogs,  dragging  a  pol- 
ished cariole  of  wonderful  workmanship.  It  was 
piled  with  furs,  and  from  the  curled  enamel  lip  two 
little  staffs  arose,  and  on  them  fluttered  the  red  flag 
of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company.  Among  the  furs  sat 
a  man  with  a  gray  mustache  and  piercing  blue  eyes. 

"  Father !  "  cried  Donald,  and  fell  forward  un- 
conscious across  the  bullet-splintered  logs. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

RENUNCIATION 

^4t»M  proud  of  you,  lad,"  were  the  first  words  that 

■■•  Donald  recognized  when  he  came  to  himself 
in  the  little  shed-tent  that  quick  hands  had  erected. 

"  Fm  glad  you  came,"  was  the  simple  reply. 
"  They'd  have  done  for  us  in  another  half-minute. 
I  don't  see  why  Seguls  threw  away  so  many  lives 
trying  to  capture  that  fort." 

*'  Dr.  Craven  says  you  mustn't  talk  for  a  bit,  but 
you  can  listen  while  I  tell  you.  Last  night,  Peter 
Rainy  and  I  came  upon  the  Fort  Severn  men  In  pos- 
session of  the  French  traders'  supply  trains." 

"Peter  Rainy  I  Good  old  Peter  I  Is  he  back, 
too?" 

"  Yes,  but  you  mustn't  talk.     Obey  orders." 

Donald  smiled  comfortably  as  he  recognized  the 
familiar,  brusque  speech,  and  closed  his  eyes. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  All  right  This  morning,  we  had  started  up 
here,  when  he  saw  a  man  chasing  away  from  us  for 
dear  life.  One  of  the  boys  recognized  him  as  Se- 
guls, and  figured  that  his  men  must  have  come  down 
to  try  to  rescue  the  trains,  but  that,  when  they  saw 
the  number  in  the  party,  they  decided  to  return  to 
their  camp  and  fight  in  the  last  ditch.     Naturally, 

277 


278  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

when  they  found  you  in  possession  —  and  I  must  tell 
you  that  was  a  dev0  piece  of  work  for  a  boy  —  they 
started  in  to  drive  you  out.  It  was  their  only 
chance.'* 

Donald  smiled  again.  If  he  were  fifty  years  old, 
he  would  always  be  a  "  boy  "  to  his  father. 

"  By  that  stubborn  defense  of  yours,  you  have 
wiped  the  Free-Traders'  Brotherhood  out  of  exist- 
ence, as  well  'as  saved  a  lot  of  exceptionally  fine  furs 
(so  I'm  told)  for  the  Company.  I  don't  think  the 
bullets  made  much  headway  against  that  toughness. 
I'm  awfully  sorry  so  many  men  lost  their  lives,  and, 
of  course,  we'll  look  out  for  their  families,  if  they 
have  any. 

"  Now,  about  the  matter  that  brought  me  here." 
The  father  plunged  into  this  delicate  subject  with  his 
son  fearlessly,  but  with  a  deep  breath,  like  a  man 
diving  into  cold  water.  "  I  see,  I've  got  to  be  pretty 
much  alive  if  you  and  I  are  to  get  out  of  it  with  a 
whole  skin.  What  I'd  like  to  know  Is,  how  they 
saddle  this  half-breed  on  me." 

*'  If  you  don't  know,  who  does?  "  The  eyes  of 
the  son  were  steady  In  their  wordless  accusation. 
"  It's  this  way,  father:  If  you  never  married  this 
woman  Maria,  it  ought  to  be  easy  enough  to  prove." 

"  I  didn't  marry  her." 

"  Well,  then,  there  oughtn't  to  be  any  trouble." 

"  Oh,  yes,  there  ought,  my  boy.  I-  didn't  say  she 
never  had  a  place  in  my  life." 

Donald  looked  at  his  father  with  something  of 
the  elder  man's  piercing  gazcj  and  understood. 


RENUNCIATION  279 

"Then,  there  were — " 

"Relations.  Exactly!  But  ap  children.  After 
three  years,  we  agreed  to  separate,  and  she  went 
back  to  her  people,  well  provided  for,  for  the  rest 
of  her  life.  She  was  considered  to  have  done  very 
well.  Therefore,  having  Seguls  forced  upon  me  Is 
no  light  matter." 

"  I  hate  to  say  it,  father,"  Donald  said,  "  but  If 
you  look  at  him  carefully,  you  will  see  unmistakable 
signs  that  spell  *  McTavIsh  '  as  plainly  as  though  It 
were  printed.  You  know,  our  family  has  very  dis- 
tinctive gray  eyes  and  curly  hair,  with  a  lick  of  white 
on  the  crown.  He  has  them  both.  But,  tell  me, 
what  led  you  into  any  such  relation?  If  you  had 
warned  me  when  I  was  old  enough,  I  would  have 
been  prepared  for  It." 

"  My  boy,  I  had  none  of  the  advantages  that  you 
have  had  all  your  life.  I  was  bom  at  a  little  post  so 
far  north  that  It  has  been  abandoned  now  by  the 
Company.  Your  grandfather  was  In  charge  there, 
and,  when  I  was  old  enough,  I  went  out  with  him, 
and  learned  to  hunt.  Then,  later,  when  I  was  a 
man,  I  was  put  In  charge  of  another  little  post  on 
the  Whale  River,  one  of  those  spots  where  a  soli- 
tary white  man  lives  for  all  the  winter  months  alone, 
only  visited  occasionally  by  a  passing  Indian  In  need 
of  supplies.  Oh,  If  I  had  only  realized  then  what  I 
know  now,  that  one's  mistakes  and  wrong-doings 
bear  their  fruit  In  time !  Well,  at  the  fort,  when  the 
brigade  went  up  In  the  spring,  I  saw  an  Indian  girl, 
descendant   of    a   chief.     You   will   understand   me 


28o  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

when  I  say  that  I  turned  away  from  the  advances 
she  made.  Our  family  isn't  that  kind  —  I  would 
marry  no  Indian.  My  mother  was  white,  all  our 
McTavish  women  are  white.  I  would  have  nothing 
to  do  with  her.  But  then,  that  lonely  winter  post! 
You've  never  known  it,  Donald,  that  awful  solitari- 
ness! The  first  winter  I  had  a  couple  of  papers  a 
year  old,  and,  when  the  brigade  went  up  to  the  fort, 
I  could  almost  repeat  them  verbatim.  That's  how 
lonely  it  was ! 

"  When  I  thought  about  that,  perhaps  I  pushed 
matters  a  little  myself.  The  girl's  parents  were 
dead,  and  she  was  knocked  around  considerably  by 
an  old  hag  who  hadn't  the  heart  either  to  let  her 
starve  or  to  treat  her  kindly.  Well,  we  fixed  it  up. 
I  left  the  fort  when  the  time  came,  and  she  followed 
a  week  later  —  and  that  winter  I  wasn't  alone.  It 
was  so  for  three  winters.  Then,  she  began  to  get 
shrewish  and  lose  her  looks,  so  I  gave  her  money 
enough  to  make  her  independent  (my  father  had  left 
me  something),  and  we  separated  with  mutual  sat- 
isfaction. .  o  .  That's  the  story,  Donald." 

"  It's  a  hard  story,  father,"  said  the  young  man, 
soberly.  "  There  Isn't  much  kindness  in  it;  it's  pure 
selfishness.  Understand,  I'm  not  preaching  against 
the  immorality  of  the  thing;  people  up  here  are 
frankly  either  one  or  the  other,  and  it's  nobody's 
business  much,  except  the  missionary's.  But,  in  the 
light  of  what  has  happened  this  winter,  we  would  all 
be  happier  if  you  hadn't  done  it." 


RENUNCIATION  281 

"  I  know  it,  my  boy,  I  know  it."  The  hardness 
of  the  commissioner's  voice  broke.  "  And,  so  far 
as  I  can  see,  we  aren't  out  of  the  trouble  yet.  This 
man,  Seguis,  and  old  Maria  may  force  us  to  the  wall 
yet.  I  wonder  if  I  could  bribe  them  off?"  He 
looked  pleadingly  at  his  son. 

"  I  don't  think  so.  The  old  woman  is  so  am- 
bitious for  Seguis  that  she  won't  take  anything  but 
the  whole  cake,  and,  besides,  why  expose  yourself  to 
a  system  of  everlasting  blackmail,  with  the  chance 
of  their  getting  angry  some  time  and  squealing  any- 
how? We've  got  to  force  them  to  the  wall  some 
other  way.  When  are  you  going  to  have  a  council, 
and  settle  this  thing?" 

"  To-morrow  morning,  my  boy; "  and  the  com- 
missioner rose. 

Donald  noted,  with  a  little  pang  of  sorrow,  that 
his  father's  face  looked  older  than  he  had  ever  seen 
it,  and  conjectured  rightly  that  beneath  the  surface 
this  gruff  man,  who  had  raised  himself  to  second  in 
command  of  the  Company,  was  profoundly,  abjectly 
miserable. 

The  elder  McTavish  rested  his  hand  for  a  mo- 
ment on  his  son's  well  shoulder. 

"  I'm  going  out  now,"  he  said.  "  I've  tired  you 
enough.  Try  to  rest,  or  Craven  will  give  me  the 
deuce  for  rousing  you.  .  .  .  Oh,  by  the  way,  Don- 
ald, I  know  all  that's  happened  between  you  and 
Fitzpatrick.  Rainy  told  me.  I  sent  old  Bill 
Thompson  up  here  to  command  Fitzpatrick's  pres- 


282  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIE 

ence,  when  I  arrived.  Pretty  foxy  fellow,  old  Bill; 
seemed  to  tell  everything,  and  hear  nothing,  when 
it  was  really  the  other  way  about." 

"  So  that  was  why  he  came  up  here  so  suddenly. 
Poor  old  man,  he  died  game." 

"  And  he  lived  game,  which  is  more  than  I  can 
say  of  some  people  higher  up,"  was  the  gruff,  self- 
condemnatory  appreciation  of  the  dead. 

The  commissioner  was  just  opening  the  door  of 
the  tent  when  a  bustle  and  shouting,  mingled  with 
the  tinkle  of  sleigh-bells,  announced  the  arrival  of 
a  dog-train. 

"Hello,  father!"  cried  Donald,  "who's  that?" 

"  An  old  and  loved  friend  of  yours." 

**  If  IVe  got  a  real  friend  except  Peter  Rainy,* 
please  show  him  in." 

"  It's  Angus  Fitzpatrick." 

"Well,  you  can  show  him  out;  shoot  him  if  you 
want  to.  By  the  way,  any  one  with  him?"  The 
sense  of  dry  humor  that  characterized  the  elder  Mc- 
Tavish  took  in  the  situation  at  once.  His  eye 
twinkled  briefly. 

"  There's  a  round  bundle  of  furs  on  the  sledge. 
Why?" 

"  Well,  you  show  that  bundle  of  furs  which  is  my 
tent,  and  watch  it  come  to  life,"  was  Donald's  smil- 
ing order. 

His  father  fussed  and  fumed  in  apparent  rage  for 
five  minutes,  and  finally  snapped  out: 

"  Well,  all  right !  But  I  always  told  your  mother 
you  would  be   spoiled,   if  she  gratified  every  one 


RENUNCIATION  283 

of  your  whims."     Wherewith,  he  disappeared  out- 
side. 

The  next  morning  found  a  small  and  solemn  gath- 
ering In  the  large  tent  that  Commissioner  McTavIsh 
carried  with  him  on  his  journeys  de  luxe.  Present 
were  Maria  who  had  been  rooted  out  of  her  tree 
like  a  bear;  Seguls  and  Donald  (both  carried  In), 
the  commissioner,  Angus  FItzpatrIck,  delirious  with 
fever  half  the  time,  and  Peter  Rainy,  gaunt  with  his 
record-breaking  journey  of  fourteen  hundred  miles 
in  four  weeks.  The  day  before,  there  had  been  a 
fervent,  but  quiet,  reunion  of  the  old  Indian  and  his 
young  master.  In  which  the  banter  of  the  wounded 
man  was  barely  removed  from  tears  of  gratitude. 
Now,  he  sat  on  the  edge  of  Donald's  pile  of  skins, 
and  smoked  his  vile  pipe  with  complete  contentment. 

It  was  a  strange  company.  Angus  FItzpatrIck,  In 
the  deserted  camp  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company,  had 
risen  from  his  bed,  the  old  loyalty  and  discipline  urg- 
ing him  on,  and,  in  the  face  of  death  Itself,  had  come 
down  at  the  command  of  his  hated  enemy  and  su- 
perior. To  the  last,  he  was  the  uncompromising 
disciplinarian,  more  severe  with  himself  than  with 
the  meanest  underling.  The  commissioner  thought 
it  best  to  secure  Fitzpatrlck's  story  while  he  yet  re- 
tained his  reason,  and  addressed  him  first. 

"  When  did  you  first  learn  Oi  this  scandal  concern- 
ing me,  FItzpatrIck?"  he  demanded.  "No,  lie 
down  I  "  he  commanded,  as  the  other  attempted  to 
rise. 

**  In  the  middle  of  last  summer,  sir.     Maria,  the 


284          THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

squaw,  came  to  me  with  certain  proof  that  made  the 
evidence  incontrovertible." 

"What  proof?" 

"  A  signed  statement  by  a  well-known  missionary, 
declaring  that  he  had  united  you  in  marriage." 

For  an  instant,  there  was  the  absolute  silence  of 
amazed  horror,  In  which,  presently,  broke  the  snort- 
ing and  chuckling  of  Maria,  who  rocked  herself 
back  and  forth  on  her  haunches,  like  some  witch  mut- 
tering over  an  evil  brew. 

"Where  Is  that  statement?"  demanded  the  com- 
missioner. 

"  Maria  had  It  the  last  time  I  knew  of  Its  where- 
abouts."    Fitzpatrick  closed  his  eyes,  wearily. 

"  Maria !  "  The  commissioner's  voice  was  sharp 
with  command  and  disgust.  The  withered  squaw 
suddenly  stopped  her  rocking,  and  opened  her  little, 
fire-shot  eyes  steadily  for  a  moment. 

"  Douglas !  "  she  said,  pronouncing  his  first  name 
with  careless  familiarity. 

Fitzpatrick,  at  this  breach  of  ceremony,  rose,  fu- 
rious, on  his  pile  of  blankets.  Inarticulate. 

But  McTavIsh  waved  him  back. 

"  Where  Is  that  certificate?  " 

"  I  have  it,"  replied  Maria,  sullenly. 

"  Let  me  see  It."  Not  many  people  resisted  that 
tone  of  McTavIsh's. 

"  I  refuse,"  she  said. 

"You  refuse,  eh?"  The  blue  eyes  darkened  to 
ominous  black.  "If  you  repeat  that,  old  woman, 
you  start  with  me  for  Winnipeg  to-morrow,  and  you 


RENUNCIATION  285 

spend  the  rest  of  your  life  In  jail.  You  have  done 
me  enough  injury  already  to  land  you  In  a  dozen 
courts.  I'll  give  you  another  chance.  Let  me  see 
that  paper.  And  no  funny  business.  I  mean  what 
I  say,  and  you  know  It.  We're  at  the  point  now 
where  you,  or  I,  win  forever.  Come  now,  dig  up, 
and  be  quick!  " 

Perhaps,  the  flinty  hardness,  the  Indifferent  crisp- 
ness,  of  that  voice  raised  dim  memories  In  the  wom- 
an's mind,  for  her  glance  wavered,  for  the  first  time. 

"  Come  on,  Maria,"  interposed  Donald,  as  the 
old  woman  framed  a  whining  reply,  "  the  paper  is 
in  that  muskrat-skin  bag  around  your  neck.  I  know, 
because  I've  seen  it." 

She  turned  upon  him,  bristling  like  an  angry  cat. 

"  Yes,  and  be  quick,  or  you'll  have  help  you  don't 
want,"  added  the  commissioner,  coolly. 

With  a  snarl,  Maria  thrust  her  hand  into  her 
meager  bosom,  and  drew  forth  a  little  bag  with  Its 
draw-strings.  Under  the  fascinated  eyes  of  the 
group,  she  opened  it,  and  carefully  extracted  the 
worn  paper. 

"  Please  Identify  it,  Fitzpatrick,"  ordered  the 
commissioner,  and  the  factor  of  Fort  Severn  took 
the  sheet  in  his  hands. 

"  It's  the  same  she  showed  me  last  summer,"  he 
said,  after  a  careful  examination.  "  I  would  know 
the  handwriting  of  Burns  Riley,  the  missionary,  any- 
where." 

*'  Good  heavens !  "  cried  the  commissioner. 
"Did    Burns    Riley   write    and    sign    that?"     He 


286  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

reached  out  an  agitated  hand,  and  Fltzpatrick  passed 
over  the  paper. 

"  Who  was  this  Riley,  father?  "  asked  Donald. 

"  One  of  the  first  men  to  reach  the  Whale  River 
districts,"  was  the  agitated  answer.  "  When  Fltz- 
patrick and  I  were  your  age,  he  was  one  of  the  most 
famous  characters  in  the  Northland,  because  he  car- 
ried Christianity  in  either  fist  when  it  was  necessary. 
But  he  was  the  squarest  man  that  ever  lived,  was  old 
Burns." 

"  Is  he  dead  now?" 

"  Yes,  these  fifteen  years.  Wait  a  minute.  Let 
me  see  this."  He  ran  his  eyes  slowly  along  the 
faded  lines,  and  read: 

This  is  to  certify  that  on  April  17,  1873,  I  united  in 
marriage  Douglas  McTavish,  fur  trader  at  Fort  MIskati, 
son  of  Duncan  McTavish,  pure  Scotch,  to  Maria  Seguis, 
Ojibway  Indian.  "  Whom  God  hath  joined  together  let 
no  man  put  asunder.'* 

Burns  Riley,  Missionary. 

That  was  all.  McTavish  saw  his  whole  life  go 
down  in  wreckage  and  ruin  under  the  weight  of  those 
five,  or  six  lines  of  writing.  There  was  no  question 
as  to  the  authorship  ■—  he  himself  recognized  Riley's 
handwriting,  though  it  was  many  years  since  he  had 
seen  any  of  it.  And  Riley's  name  was  the  symbol 
of  righteousness  and  squareness  throughout  his 
whole  vast  parish,  and  beyond.  The  date  was  the 
spring  that  he  and  Maria  had  separated  for  the  last 
time.  But  he  was  sure  that  Riley  never  wrote  the 
certificate  as  far  back  as  that. 


RENUNCIATION  287 

**  If  I  only  had  an  ink-and-wrltlng  expert  Here  I  " 
he  groaned  to  himself.  "  But  that  writing  Is  Riley's 
all  right,"  he  admitted  aloud. 

Maria  began  to  rock  herself  again,  and  to  mutter. 
The  commissioner  changed  his  attack. 

*' Who's  this  man,  Maria?"  he  suddenly  asked, 
pointing  to  Charley  Seguls. 

"  Your  legitimate  son  and  rightful  heir,"  snapped 
the  squaw,  and  she  went  on  rocking,  while  McTav- 
ish  wrestled  with  a  deadly  Impulse  to  strangle  her. 

"  When  was  he  born?  " 

"In  November,  1873,  seven  months  after  you 
sent  me  away."  McTavIsh  did  not  question  this. 
Acting  on  Donald's  advice,  he  had  observed  the  half- 
breed  closely,  and  had  detected  unmistakable  signs 
of  McTavIsh  blood.  Furthermore,  the  man  looked 
his  age. 

The  commissioner  turned  to  Seguls,  and  questioned 
him  in  regard  to  certain  events  he  would  remember, 
had  he  been  alive  at  the  time  Maria  claimed. 

He  answered  correctly  In  all  regards,  and  with  a 
naturalness  that  showed  he  had  not  been  coached. 
The  commissioner  was  satisfied  that  here  was  his 
first-born,  and  the  pang  that  went  through  his  heart 
was  like  a  red-hot  arrow.  But  he  turned  his  mind 
to  the  necessities  of  the  occasion,  not  yielding  to  rts 
griefs. 

"  Maria,"  he  said  despairingly,  "  you  know  we 
were  never  married.  You  know  you  came  to  me 
willingly  and  gladly,  when  I  offered  you  the  only  life 
I  would  permit  myself  to  offer  an  Indian.     You 


288  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

came  as  my  companion  until  such  time  as  we  should 
see  fit  to  separate;  in  fact,  you  were  the  first  to  put 
the  idea  into  my  mind.  That  paper  shows  me  you 
have  done  something  very  wrong.  I  can^t  now  dis- 
prove the  statements  there:  that  will  come  later. 
But  what  I  want  to  say  now  is  that  you  are  forcing 
through  one  of  the  dirtiest  pieces  of  work  that  ever 
took  place  in  the  Company." 

Fitzpatrick  feebly  pawed  his  beard,  and  his  eyes 
glittered  with  triumph.  This  was  what  he  had 
waited  for  —  to  see  the  commissioner  slowly  come 
to  his  knees  before  a  filthy  squaw,  and  plead  for  his 
life  I 

"  You  don't  hate  me,"  McTavish  continued,  "  for 
I  never  wronged  you.  When  you  left  me,  I  gave 
you  enough  to  make  you  comfortable.  Why  did  you 
not  tell  me  of  this  child?  " 

"  Factors  have  too  many  ways  of  getting  such 
things  out  of  the  way,"  Maria  mumbled. 

"  Fool  I  Do  you  think  I  am  a  murderer  at  heart? 
You  lie  when  you  say  that.  It  was  ambition  that 
changed  you  from  a  pretty  Indian  girl  to  a  ruth- 
less fiend;  ambition  for  your  child  that  would  take 
him  and  you  up  to  the  heights,  perhaps.  But  not 
by  the  open  road  I  The  dirty  back  alleys  were  what 
you  used  to  climb,  and  now  you're  nearly  there. 
But  you  never  did  it  alone,  never.  You  enlisted  the 
help  of  a  man  that  hates  me  and  mine,  as  a  trapper 
hates  a  wolverene.  A  man  who  has  lied  to  me  and 
tried  to  deceive  me  for  years;  a  man  who,  boasting 
of  his  devotion  to  the  Company,  has  let  personal 


RENUNCIATION  289 

animus  sway  every  thought  and  action  for  twenty 
years. 

"Yes,  I  mean,  Fitzpatrick.  You!"  snarled  the 
commissioner,  shaking  a  swift,  accusing  finger  at  the 
factor,  who  had  raised  himself  on  his  elbow,  his  face 
purple.  "  You  think  you  have  gone  on  unobserved; 
and  wonder  why  you  were  never  promoted  to  York 
factory,  and  why  honors  never  came  to  you  as  you 
grew  older.  Know  now  that  I  was  watching  you  and 
that  I  knew  everything  you  did  —  almost  the 
thoughts  that  passed  in  your  mind.  You  have  per- 
secuted my  son,  you  would  have  succeeded  in  taking 
his  life,  if  your  own  pretender,  Seguis  there,  hadn't 
defeated  you.  Under  a  mask  of  loyalty,  youVe 
been  the  one  accursed  rebel  in  the  Company's  ranks, 
and,  if  I  were  a  commissioner  of  the  old  regime,  Fd 
have  you  taken  out  and  hanged  to  a  tree  this  after- 
noon. But  I  won't  do  that.  Your  own  life  has 
been  its  own  punishment.  For  years,  you  haven't 
known  a  happy  day  or  a  contented  hour;  your  venom 
has  eaten  your  own  heart  away,  and  what  life  re- 
mains to  you  will  be  more  miserable  still,  because, 
after  all,  you  go  down  in  defeat,  dishonored  and 
disgraced.  You  are  hereby  removed  from  any  of- 
fice and  any  connection  with  the  Company,  and  are 
commanded  to  leave  its  territories  as  soon  as  you  can 
travel." 

The  commissioner  ceased  speaking  abruptly,  his 
eyes  blazing  with  fury,  and  his  outstretched  arm 
trembling.  The  factor  cowered  before  the  accusing 
presence,  like  a  boy  caught  in  a  theft,  and  sank  back 


290  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

upon  his  blankets,  shame  and  pain  struggling  on  the 
scarred  battlefield  of  his  face.  For  him,  life  had 
come  to  a  bitter  and  inglorious  end,  and,  during  all 
that  followed,  he  never  spoke  again. 

There  was  a  minute's  pause  while  the  commis- 
sioner recovered  himself.  Then,  the  thought  of  his 
own  helplessness  and  the  inevitable  ruin  that  faced 
him  and  his  returned,  and  his  face  grew  drawn  and 
hopeless.  The  triumphant  and  gleeful  chortling  of 
the  old  squaw  attracted  his  stunned  senses. 

"  Maria,"  he  said  quietly,  '*  you  have  it  in  your 
power  to  ruin  and  disgrace  me  —  and  my  boy. 
Perhaps,  it  is  the  punishment  for  the  evil  thing  I  did 
so  many  years  ago.  If  so,  I  accept  it.  I  shall  not 
beg  you,  or  try  to  buy  you,  or  humble  myself.  The 
document  you  have  is  a  lie,  and  you  know  it. 
Neither  you  nor  your  son  shall  ever  receive  a  cent  of 
money  from  me.  All  you  can  claim  is  the  dirty 
honor  of  ruining  me.  If  you  want  that,  take  it.  I 
have  spoken  my  last  word  on  the  subject."  He 
ceased,  and  sat,  a  picture  of  misery. 

Suddenly,  there  was  a  choking  sound  from  the 
opposite  side  of  the  tent  where  Seguls  lay. 

"  I  can't  stand  this  1  '*  the  half-breed  cried. 
"Listen  to  me,  commissioner!  All  of  you  listen  I 
That  certificate  Is  a  lie,  and  I  can  prove  It.     I  — " 

There  was  a  raucous  scream,  and  Maria  leaped 
upon  the  wounded  man,  and  burled  her  talons  In  his 
throat.  Rainy  and  the  commissioner  seized  her,  and 
tore  her  from  her  helpless  victim  violently,  hurling 
her  back  across  the  tent,  screeching. 


RENUNCIATION  291 

"  Silence !  "  roared  McTavish.  "  Or  Fll  gag  you 
with  your  own  fist." 

The  woman  subsided,  but  Rainy  took  his  place 
beside  her,  and  relieved  her  of  two  knives  that  she 
made  an  effort  to  reach. 

"  Now,  go  on,  Seguls." 

"  I  didn't  know,  sir,"  said  the  half-breed,  "  until 
the  other  day,  that  —  what  I  was.  Then,  Donald 
McTavish  told  me,  by  accident  or  design,  I  don't 
know  which.  I  asked  my  mother,  and  she  confessed 
that  Donald  had  spoken  the  truth.  So  great  was 
her  elation  at  the  success  of  her  claims  for  me  that 
she  showed  me  that  certificate,  signed  by  the  mis- 
sionary.    I  was  as  delighted  as  she. 

"  Then  the  next  day  she  told  me  how  she  got  it, 
and  since  then  I  have  been  In  hell.  Oh,  sir,  you 
don't  know  what  an  existence  like  mine  can  be.  All 
my  life  I  have  been  torn  by  two  natures.  I  have 
wanted  things  that  a  man  of  my  standing  has  no  right 
to  wish.  I  have  brains,  I  have  Intelligence;  I  want 
to  rise  above  my  handicaps  —  to  be  something  be- 
sides a  common  half-breed  rover  of  the  woods.  I 
headed  the  free-traders  because  It  gave  me  an  op- 
portunity to  do  something  for  myself.  When  my 
mother  showed  me  that  paper  I  thought  my  way  was 
clear,  and  that  I  had  not  worked  In  vain.  But  — 
but,  when  she  told  me  how  she  got  it  —  then,  the 
struggle  started. 

"  I  am  a  McTavish,  sir,  and  I  am  proud  of  It;  but 
it  Is  that  honorable  blood  that  Is  this  minute  sending 
me  back  to  the  life  I  hate,  and  the  oblivion  I  loathe. 


292  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL       . 

I  can't  lie  here,  and  see  you  and  Captain  McTavisH 
ruined.  The  Indian  part  of  me  says,  *  Yes,  take  it; 
no  one  will  ever  know/  But  the  McTavIsh  of  me 
rebels,  and  I  can't  do  it." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  cried  the  commissioner  feverishly, 
"but  about  the  certificate?    What  about  that?" 

"  I  was  getting  to  it,  sir.  Years  ago,  I  don'£ 
know  how  many,  my  mother  and  I  were  living  in  a 
little  cabin  by  a  lake  during  the  winter.  I  was  small 
then,  and  did  not  realize  the  significance  of  things. 
One  night,  we  heard  faint  noises  in  the  woods  near 
by,  and  my  mother  went  out  to  see  what  made  them. 
She  found  Burns  Riley,  the  missionary,  half-insane 
with  suffering,  his  features  frozen,  and  almost  at  the 
point  of  starvation.  He  had  had  a  similar  adven- 
ture to  Captain  McTavish's  this  winter. 

"  My  mother  saw  his  plight,  and  the  vague  plan 
that  had  been  in  her  mind  took  shape.  There,  in 
the  snow,  she  forced  the  missionary  at  the  price  of 
his  miserable  life  to  agree  to  write  that  certificate, 
and,  as  soon  as  his  fingers  could  hold  the  pen  and  dip 
it  in  the  soot-Ink  of  the  chimney,  he  did  It,  and  be- 
fore him  sat  the  food  that  his  words  would  pur- 
chase. Burns  Riley  was  a  square  man,  but  his  life 
was  at  stake,  for  my  mother  would  have  turned  him 
out  into  the  snow  as  he  was,  if  he  had  not  done  as 
she  wished  —  and  he  knew  it." 

"But  why  didn't  he  come  and  tell  me?"  de- 
manded McTavIsh. 

"  Because  he  was  on  his  way  to  a  mission,  at  Fort 
Chimo,  on  the  Koksook  River,  near  Ungava  Bay. 


RENUNCIATION  ^93 

He  didn*t  come  back  until  shortly  before  He  died, 
and  he  never  saw  you.  No  doubt  he  was  afraid  to 
trust  the  story  of  the  disgrace  of  his  cloth  to  a  mes- 
senger. That,  Mr.  McTavish,  is  the  story  of  the 
certificate.  I'm  glad  I've  told  it;  I'm  glad  I've  re- 
linquished my  claims ;  I'm  glad  that  I  am  still  as  hon- 
est as  the  best  blood  in  me.  But  now,"  he  added 
drearily,  "what  is  there  for  me?  Commissioner, 
you  have  done  me  the  irreparable  wrong  of  making 
me  what  I  am.  All  our  two  lives  there  can  never  be 
any  righting  of  that  wrong.  I  am  a  half-breed,  and 
must  forever  yearn  vainly  for  better  things  that  I 
know  I  can  never  attain." 

During  his  words,  which  were  evenly  spoken, 
without  excitement,  but  with  intense  feeling,  the  head 
of  Douglas  McTavish  remained  sunk  upon  his 
breast.  He  realized  now  the  irreparable  injury  that 
his  youth  had  wrought,  and  in  the  depths  of  his  heart 
he  admired  this  heroic  half-breed,  who,  in  the  exer- 
cise of  the  truest  nobility,  was  a  better  man  than  he. 
The  selfish  gratitude  for  his  deliverance  was  sec- 
ondary to  shame  for  his  own  unworthy  life  and  hum- 
ble worship  of  Seguis's  sterling  character. 

"  Seguis,"  he  said  at  last,  quietly,  "  you  are  right; 
I  never  can  undo  the  wrong  I  have  done  you.  But 
will  say  this:  I  admire  your  spirit  and  your  man- 
hood. I  admire  the  way  you  sought  to  defeat  us  in 
honorable  competition  on  the  hunting-grounds,  and 
the  skill  with  which  you  managed  it.  The  position 
of  factor  at  Fort  Severn  is  open,  and  I  wish  you  to 
take  it.     You  are  one  of  my  most  valued  men.     This 


294  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

appointment  will  be  ratified  in  the  usual  form  when 
the  time  comes." 

He  rose  and  walked  across  the  tent:  Then,  he 
took  the  left  hand  of  Seguis  and  pressed  it  warmly. 

"  You  will  accept?  "  he  asked. 

The  half-breed's  only  response  was  a  return  pres- 
sure and  a  look  of  glorious  gratitude. 

"  What  is  to  become  of  me,  father?  "  asked  Don- 
ald in  a  half-serious  tone  of  injury. 

"  You're  to  come  down  to  civilization  as  soon  as 
spring  opens.  I  had  already  decided  that  this  would 
be  your  last  year  in  the  woods.  I  need  you  there 
to  learn  the  ins  and  outs  of  the  administrative  end. 
Of  course,  I'll  give  you  a  factory  if  you  want  it,  but 
I  don't  think  you  need  the  experience." 

"  No,  I  don't  think  I  do,"  replied  Donald.  "  And 
then,  besides,  I  have  other  reasons  for  wishing  to 
live  in  a  civilized  community.  I  wonder  what  is  the 
current  price  of  house- furniture  ?  " 

A  month  later  Jean  Fitzpatrick,  her  sister,  Laura, 
and  Donald  McTavish  sat  In  the  luxurious  drawing- 
room  of  the  factor's  house  at  Fort  Severn.  The 
two  women  were  in  black,  and  Laura  dabbed  at  her 
eyes  occasionally,  but  with  considerable  care  lest  the 
penciling  of  her  eyebrows  should  smear.  .  .  .  Out 
in  the  cold,  a  little  distance  away,  a  fresh  mound 
lay,  dun-colored,  under  the  oblique  rays  of  the  set- 
ting sun. 

"  Poor  father,"  said  Jean  softly,  slipping  her  hand 


RENUNCIATION  295 

into  Donald's,  "  I'm  glad  he's  at  rest.  His  life  was 
a  bitter  one." 

"  Yes,  princess,  it  is  better  so.  That  last  sledge 
ride  to  the  camp  in  response  to  orders  was  the  final 
straw.  He  never  spoke  again,  did  he?  Even  in 
regard  to  our  marriage?  " 

"  No,  dear,  he  didn't,  and  I'm  glad,  for  my  mind 
was  made  up  already.  I  suppose  Seguis  will  take 
possession  here  now?  " 

"  Yes,  as  soon  as  we  all  start  for  Winnipeg,  which 
will  be  when  the  ice  is  out  of  the  rivers.  It  will  be  a 
long  journey;  but  after  it,  when  you  have  got  some 
clothes,  there  will  be  a  big  church  wedding,  and  we'll 
settle  down  like  civilized  beings  in  a  real  house.  Oh, 
princess,  I  can  hardly  wait.  I'm  still  afraid  some- 
thing will  take  you  from  me  again." 

"  Nothing  ever  will,  dear  boy,"  she  replied,  pat- 
ting his  hand.  "  But  look  here,  Donald,"  and  she 
smiled,  "  you  haven't  arrested  Seguis  yet  for  the  mur- 
der of  Cree  Johnny." 

"  No,  and  I  don't  need  to.  The  man  who  reported 
the  crime  has  finally  confessed  that  he  lied  about  it. 
Cree  Johnny  was  drunk,  and  attacked  Seguis, 
who  killed  him  in  self-defense.  The  man  who 
brought  the  news  to  Fort  Dickey  had  been 
Johnny's  partner  for  years,  and  lied  about  it  out  of 
revenge.  Speaking  of  murders,  I  would  like  to 
know  who  killed  Indian  Tom.  I  really  think  that  a 
passing  hunter  mistook  him  for  an  animal  moving. 
The  deed  was  done  in  a  storm,  which  made  it  very 


296  THE  WILDERNESS  TRAIL 

hard  to  see,  and  that  same  storm  wiped  out  the 
murderer's  tracks.  Since  you  have  sworn  you  were 
with  me  at  the  time  of  the  shot,  of  course  they  can't 
accuse  me  any  longer." 

"  I  wonder  what  will  become  of  old  Maria," 
asked  Jean.  "  She  is  a  helpless  idiot  now.  The 
strain  of  Seguis's  confession  that  day  seemed  to  break 
something  in  her  brain,  and  now  she  is  an  amiable, 
helpless  old  squaw,  without  a  single  memory." 

*'  Seguis  promised  me  the  other  day  he  would  look 
after  her.  Once  I  asked  him  what  was  the  motive 
that  prompted  his  bringing  that  command  of  yours 
for  me  to  go  away,  but  he  wouldn't  explain.  He 
only  smiled.  He  seems  very  glad  that  we  are  to  be 
married  and  happy,  at  last."  Donald  smiled  af- 
fectionately on  her. 

"  Well,  who  wouldn't  be  glad  that  I  am  going  to 
marry  my  hero?"  asked  the  girl,  with  shining  eyes. 

McTavish  grew  suddenly  grave. 

*'  Don't  call  me  that,"  he  said,  gently.  "  There 
IS  another  hero,  to  whom  we  both  owe  more  than  we 
can  ever  repay." 

"Who  is  that?" 

"  Charley  Seguis,"  Donald  said. 


THE  END 


VB  39946 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


